diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 4 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65688-0.txt | 9519 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65688-0.zip | bin | 228848 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65688-h.zip | bin | 472102 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65688-h/65688-h.htm | 9583 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/65688-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 243561 -> 0 bytes |
8 files changed, 17 insertions, 19102 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cd43756 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #65688 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/65688) diff --git a/old/65688-0.txt b/old/65688-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index eb4f60a..0000000 --- a/old/65688-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9519 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Everlasting Man, by G. K. Chesterton - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Everlasting Man - -Author: G. K. Chesterton - -Release Date: June 24, 2021 [eBook #65688] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Tim Lindell, Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EVERLASTING MAN *** - - - - - THE EVERLASTING MAN - - - - - THE - EVERLASTING MAN - - BY - G. K. CHESTERTON - - - HODDER AND STOUGHTON - LIMITED LONDON - - - Made and Printed in Great Britain - T. and A. CONSTABLE LTD., Printers, Edinburgh - - - - -PREFATORY NOTE - - -This book needs a preliminary note that its scope be not misunderstood. -The view suggested is historical rather than theological, and does not -deal directly with a religious change which has been the chief event of -my own life; and about which I am already writing a more purely -controversial volume. It is impossible, I hope, for any Catholic to -write any book on any subject, above all this subject, without showing -that he is a Catholic; but this study is not specially concerned with -the differences between a Catholic and a Protestant. Much of it is -devoted to many sorts of Pagans rather than any sort of Christians; and -its thesis is that those who say that Christ stands side by side with -similar myths, and his religion side by side with similar religions, are -only repeating a very stale formula contradicted by a very striking -fact. To suggest this I have not needed to go much beyond matters known -to us all; I make no claim to learning; and have to depend for some -things, as has rather become the fashion, on those who are more learned. -As I have more than once differed from Mr. H. G. Wells in his view of -history, it is the more right that I should here congratulate him on the -courage and constructive imagination which carried through his vast and -varied and intensely interesting work; but still more on having asserted -the reasonable right of the amateur to do what he can with the facts -which the specialists provide. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PAGE - -INTRODUCTION: THE PLAN OF THIS BOOK 3 - - - _PART I_ - - ON THE CREATURE CALLED MAN - -CHAP. - - I. THE MAN IN THE CAVE 19 - - II. PROFESSORS AND PREHISTORIC MEN 39 - - III. THE ANTIQUITY OF CIVILISATION 58 - - IV. GOD AND COMPARATIVE RELIGION 89 - - V. MAN AND MYTHOLOGIES 111 - - VI. THE DEMONS AND THE PHILOSOPHERS 129 - - VII. THE WAR OF THE GODS AND DEMONS 154 - -VIII. THE END OF THE WORLD 171 - - - _PART II_ - - ON THE MAN CALLED CHRIST - -CHAP. - - I. THE GOD IN THE CAVE 191 - - II. THE RIDDLES OF THE GOSPEL 211 - -III. THE STRANGEST STORY IN THE WORLD 227 - - IV. THE WITNESS OF THE HERETICS 245 - - V. THE ESCAPE FROM PAGANISM 267 - - VI. THE FIVE DEATHS OF THE FAITH 288 - - -CONCLUSION: THE SUMMARY OF THIS BOOK 302 - -APPENDIX I.: ON PREHISTORIC MAN 313 - -APPENDIX II.: ON AUTHORITY AND ACCURACY 315 - - - - - -INTRODUCTION - -THE PLAN OF THIS BOOK - - -There are two ways of getting home; and one of them is to stay there. -The other is to walk round the whole world till we come back to the same -place; and I tried to trace such a journey in a story I once wrote. It -is, however, a relief to turn from that topic to another story that I -never wrote. Like every book I never wrote, it is by far the best book I -have ever written. It is only too probable that I shall never write it, -so I will use it symbolically here; for it was a symbol of the same -truth. I conceived it as a romance of those vast valleys with sloping -sides, like those along which the ancient White Horses of Wessex are -scrawled along the flanks of the hills. It concerned some boy whose farm -or cottage stood on such a slope, and who went on his travels to find -something, such as the effigy and grave of some giant; and when he was -far enough from home he looked back and saw that his own farm and -kitchen-garden, shining flat on the hill-side like the colours and -quarterings of a shield, were but parts of some such gigantic figure, on -which he had always lived, but which was too large and too close to be -seen. That, I think, is a true picture of the progress of any real -independent intelligence to-day; and that is the point of this book. - -The point of this book, in other words, is that the next best thing to -being really inside Christendom is to be really outside it. And a -particular point of it is that the popular critics of Christianity are -not really outside it. They are on a debatable ground, in every sense -of the term. They are doubtful in their very doubts. Their criticism has -taken on a curious tone; as of a random and illiterate heckling. Thus -they make current an anti-clerical cant as a sort of small-talk. They -will complain of parsons dressing like parsons; as if we should be any -more free if all the police who shadowed or collared us were -plain-clothes detectives. Or they will complain that a sermon cannot be -interrupted, and call a pulpit a coward’s castle; though they do not -call an editor’s office a coward’s castle. It would be unjust both to -journalists and priests; but it would be much truer of journalists. The -clergyman appears in person and could easily be kicked as he came out of -church; the journalist conceals even his name so that nobody can kick -him. They write wild and pointless articles and letters in the press -about why the churches are empty, without even going there to find out -if they are empty, or which of them are empty. Their suggestions are -more vapid and vacant than the most insipid curate in a three-act farce, -and move us to comfort him after the manner of the curate in the Bab -Ballads; ‘Your mind is not so blank as that of Hopley Porter.’ So we may -truly say to the very feeblest cleric: ‘Your mind is not so blank as -that of Indignant Layman or Plain Man or Man in the Street, or any of -your critics in the newspapers; for they have not the most shadowy -notion of what they want themselves, let alone of what you ought to give -them.’ They will suddenly turn round and revile the Church for not -having prevented the War, which they themselves did not want to prevent; -and which nobody had ever professed to be able to prevent, except some -of that very school of progressive and cosmopolitan sceptics who are the -chief enemies of the Church. It was the anti-clerical and agnostic world -that was always prophesying the advent of universal peace; it is that -world that was, or should have been, abashed and confounded by the -advent of universal war. As for the general view that the Church was -discredited by the War--they might as well say that the Ark was -discredited by the Flood. When the world goes wrong, it proves rather -that the Church is right. The Church is justified, not because her -children do not sin, but because they do. But that marks their mood -about the whole religious tradition: they are in a state of reaction -against it. It is well with the boy when he lives on his father’s land; -and well with him again when he is far enough from it to look back on it -and see it as a whole. But these people have got into an intermediate -state, have fallen into an intervening valley from which they can see -neither the heights beyond them nor the heights behind. They cannot get -out of the penumbra of Christian controversy. They cannot be Christians -and they cannot leave off being Anti-Christians. Their whole atmosphere -is the atmosphere of a reaction: sulks, perversity, petty criticism. -They still live in the shadow of the faith and have lost the light of -the faith. - -Now the best relation to our spiritual home is to be near enough to love -it. But the next best is to be far enough away not to hate it. It is the -contention of these pages that while the best judge of Christianity is a -Christian, the next best judge would be something more like a Confucian. -The worst judge of all is the man now most ready with his judgments; the -ill-educated Christian turning gradually into the ill-tempered agnostic, -entangled in the end of a feud of which he never understood the -beginning, blighted with a sort of hereditary boredom with he knows not -what, and already weary of hearing what he has never heard. He does not -judge Christianity calmly as a Confucian would; he does not judge it as -he would judge Confucianism. He cannot by an effort of fancy set the -Catholic Church thousands of miles away in strange skies of morning and -judge it as impartially as a Chinese pagoda. It is said that the great -St. Francis Xavier, who very nearly succeeded in setting up the Church -there as a tower overtopping all pagodas, failed partly because his -followers were accused by their fellow missionaries of representing the -Twelve Apostles with the garb or attributes of Chinamen. But it would be -far better to see them as Chinamen, and judge them fairly as Chinamen, -than to see them as featureless idols merely made to be battered by -iconoclasts; or rather as cockshies to be pelted by empty-headed -cockneys. It would be better to see the whole thing as a remote Asiatic -cult; the mitres of its bishops as the towering head-dresses of -mysterious bonzes; its pastoral staffs as the sticks twisted like -serpents carried in some Asiatic procession; to see the prayer-book as -fantastic as the prayer-wheel and the Cross as crooked as the Swastika. -Then at least we should not lose our temper as some of the sceptical -critics seem to lose their temper, not to mention their wits. Their -anti-clericalism has become an atmosphere, an atmosphere of negation and -hostility from which they cannot escape. Compared with that, it would be -better to see the whole thing as something belonging to another -continent, or to another planet. It would be more philosophical to stare -indifferently at bonzes than to be perpetually and pointlessly grumbling -at bishops. It would be better to walk past a church as if it were a -pagoda than to stand permanently in the porch, impotent either to go -inside and help or to go outside and forget. For those in whom a mere -reaction has thus become an obsession, I do seriously recommend the -imaginative effort of conceiving the Twelve Apostles as Chinamen. In -other words, I recommend these critics to try to do as much justice to -Christian saints as if they were Pagan sages. - -But with this we come to the final and vital point. I shall try to show -in these pages that when we _do_ make this imaginative effort to see the -whole thing from the outside, we find that it really looks like what is -traditionally said about it inside. It is exactly when the boy gets far -enough off to see the giant that he sees that he really is a giant. It -is exactly when we do at last see the Christian Church afar under those -clear and level eastern skies that we see that it is really the Church -of Christ. To put it shortly, the moment we are really impartial about -it we know why people are partial to it. But this second proposition -requires more serious discussion; and I shall here set myself to discuss -it. - -As soon as I had clearly in my mind this conception of something solid -in the solitary and unique character of the divine story, it struck me -that there was exactly the same strange and yet solid character in the -human story that had led up to it; because that human story also had a -root that was divine. I mean that just as the Church seems to grow more -remarkable when it is fairly compared with the common religious life of -mankind, so mankind itself seems to grow more remarkable when we compare -it with the common life of nature. And I have noticed that most modern -history is driven to something like sophistry, first to soften the sharp -transition from animals to men, and then to soften the sharp transition -from heathens to Christians. Now the more we really read in a realistic -spirit of those two transitions the sharper we shall find them to be. It -is because the critics are _not_ detached that they do not see this -detachment; it is because they are not looking at things in a dry light -that they cannot see the difference between black and white. It is -because they are in a particular mood of reaction and revolt that they -have a motive for making out that all the white is dirty grey and the -black not so black as it is painted. I do not say there are not human -excuses for their revolt; I do not say it is not in some ways -sympathetic; what I say is that it is not in any way scientific. An -iconoclast may be indignant; an iconoclast may be justly indignant; but -an iconoclast is not impartial. And it is stark hypocrisy to pretend -that nine-tenths of the higher critics and scientific evolutionists and -professors of comparative religion are in the least impartial. Why -should they be impartial, what is being impartial, when the whole world -is at war about whether one thing is a devouring superstition or a -divine hope? I do not pretend to be impartial in the sense that the -final act of faith fixes a man’s mind because it satisfies his mind. But -I do profess to be a great deal more impartial than they are; in the -sense that I can tell the story fairly, with some sort of imaginative -justice to all sides; and they cannot. I do profess to be impartial in -the sense that I should be ashamed to talk such nonsense about the Lama -of Thibet as they do about the Pope of Rome, or to have as little -sympathy with Julian the Apostate as they have with the Society of -Jesus. They are not impartial; they never by any chance hold the -historical scales even; and above all they are never impartial upon this -point of evolution and transition. They suggest everywhere the grey -gradations of twilight, because they believe it is the twilight of the -gods. I propose to maintain that whether or no it is the twilight of -gods, it is not the daylight of men. - -I maintain that when brought out into the daylight, these two things -look altogether strange and unique; and that it is only in the false -twilight of an imaginary period of transition that they can be made to -look in the least like anything else. The first of these is the creature -called man, and the second is the man called Christ. I have therefore -divided this book into two parts: the former being a sketch of the main -adventure of the human race in so far as it remained heathen; and the -second a summary of the real difference that was made by it becoming -Christian. Both motives necessitate a certain method, a method which is -not very easy to manage, and perhaps even less easy to define or defend. - -In order to strike, in the only sane or possible sense, the note of -impartiality, it is necessary to touch the nerve of novelty. I mean that -in one sense we see things fairly when we see them first. That, I may -remark in passing, is why children generally have very little difficulty -about the dogmas of the Church. But the Church, being a highly practical -thing for working and fighting, is necessarily a thing for men and not -merely for children. There must be in it for working purposes a great -deal of tradition, of familiarity, and even of routine. So long as its -fundamentals are sincerely felt, this may even be the saner condition. -But when its fundamentals are doubted, as at present, we must try to -recover the candour and wonder of the child; the unspoilt realism and -objectivity of innocence. Or if we cannot do that, we must try at least -to shake off the cloud of mere custom and see the thing as new, if only -by seeing it as unnatural. Things that may well be familiar so long as -familiarity breeds affection had much better become unfamiliar when -familiarity breeds contempt. For in connection with things so great as -are here considered, whatever our view of them, contempt must be a -mistake. Indeed contempt must be an illusion. We must invoke the most -wild and soaring sort of imagination; the imagination that can see what -is there. - -The only way to suggest the point is by an example of something, indeed -of almost anything, that has been considered beautiful or wonderful. -George Wyndham once told me that he had seen one of the first aeroplanes -rise for the first time, and it was very wonderful; but not so wonderful -as a horse allowing a man to ride on him. Somebody else has said that a -fine man on a fine horse is the noblest bodily object in the world. Now, -so long as people feel this in the right way, all is well. The first and -best way of appreciating it is to come of people with a tradition of -treating animals properly; of men in the right relation to horses. A boy -who remembers his father who rode a horse, who rode it well and treated -it well, will know that the relation can be satisfactory and will be -satisfied. He will be all the more indignant at the ill-treatment of -horses because he knows how they ought to be treated; but he will see -nothing but what is normal in a man riding on a horse. He will not -listen to the great modern philosopher who explains to him that the -horse ought to be riding on the man. He will not pursue the pessimist -fancy of Swift and say that men must be despised as monkeys, and horses -worshipped as gods. And horse and man together making an image that is -to him human and civilised, it will be easy, as it were, to lift horse -and man together into something heroic or symbolical; like a vision of -St. George in the clouds. The fable of the winged horse will not be -wholly unnatural to him: and he will know why Ariosto set many a -Christian hero in such an airy saddle, and made him the rider of the -sky. For the horse has really been lifted up along with the man in the -wildest fashion in the very word we use when we speak of ‘chivalry.’ The -very name of the horse has been given to the highest mood and moment of -the man; so that we might almost say that the handsomest compliment to a -man is to call him a horse. - -But if a man has got into a mood in which he is _not_ able to feel this -sort of wonder, then his cure must begin right at the other end. We must -now suppose that he has drifted into a dull mood, in which somebody -sitting on a horse means no more than somebody sitting on a chair. The -wonder of which Wyndham spoke, the beauty that made the thing seem an -equestrian statue, the meaning of the more chivalric horseman, may have -become to him merely a convention and a bore. Perhaps they have been -merely a fashion; perhaps they have gone out of fashion; perhaps they -have been talked about too much or talked about in the wrong way; -perhaps it was then difficult to care for horses without the horrible -risk of being horsy. Anyhow, he has got into a condition when he cares -no more for a horse than for a towel-horse. His grandfather’s charge at -Balaclava seems to him as dull and dusty as the album containing such -family portraits. Such a person has not really become enlightened about -the album; on the contrary, he has only become blind with the dust. But -when he has reached _that_ degree of blindness, he will not be able to -look at a horse or a horseman at all until he has seen the whole thing -as a thing entirely unfamiliar and almost unearthly. - -Out of some dark forest under some ancient dawn there must come towards -us, with lumbering yet dancing motions, one of the very queerest of the -prehistoric creatures. We must see for the first time the strangely -small head set on a neck not only longer but thicker than itself, as the -face of a gargoyle is thrust out upon a gutter-spout, the one -disproportionate crest of hair running along the ridge of that heavy -neck like a beard in the wrong place; the feet, each like a solid club -of horn, alone amid the feet of so many cattle; so that the true fear is -to be found in showing not the cloven but the uncloven hoof. Nor is it -mere verbal fancy to see him thus as a unique monster; for in a sense a -monster means what is unique, and he is really unique. But the point is -that when we thus see him as the first man saw him, we begin once more -to have some imaginative sense of what it meant when the first man rode -him. In such a dream he may seem ugly, but he does not seem -unimpressive; and certainly that two-legged dwarf who could get on top -of him will not seem unimpressive. By a longer and more erratic road we -shall come back to the same marvel of the man and the horse; and the -marvel will be, if possible, even more marvellous. We shall have again a -glimpse of St. George; the more glorious because St. George is not -riding on the horse, but rather riding on the dragon. - -In this example, which I have taken merely because it is an example, it -will be noted that I do not say that the nightmare seen by the first man -of the forest is either more true or more wonderful than the normal mare -of the stable seen by the civilised person who can appreciate what is -normal. Of the two extremes, I think on the whole that the traditional -grasp of truth is the better. But I say that the truth is found at one -or other of these two extremes, and is lost in the intermediate -condition of mere fatigue and forgetfulness of tradition. In other -words, I say it is better to see a horse as a monster than to see it -only as a slow substitute for a motor-car. If we have got into _that_ -state of mind about a horse as something stale, it is far better to be -frightened of a horse because it is a good deal too fresh. - -Now, as it is with the monster that is called a horse, so it is with the -monster that is called a man. Of course the best condition of all, in my -opinion, is always to have regarded man as he is regarded in my -philosophy. He who holds the Christian and Catholic view of human nature -will feel certain that it is a universal and therefore a sane view, and -will be satisfied. But if he has lost the sane vision, he can only get -it back by something very like a mad vision; that is, by seeing man as a -strange animal and realising how strange an animal he is. But just as -seeing the horse as a prehistoric prodigy ultimately led back to, and -not away from, an admiration for the mastery of man, so the _really_ -detached consideration of the curious career of man will lead back to, -and not away from, the ancient faith in the dark designs of God. In -other words, it is exactly when we do see how queer the quadruped is -that we praise the man who mounts him; and exactly when we do see how -queer the biped is that we praise the Providence that made him. - -In short, it is the purpose of this introduction to maintain this -thesis: that it is exactly when we do regard man as an animal that we -know he is not an animal. It is precisely when we do try to picture him -as a sort of horse on its hind legs that we suddenly realise that he -must be something as miraculous as the winged horse that towered up into -the clouds of heaven. All roads lead to Rome, all ways lead round again -to the central and civilised philosophy, including this road through -elfland and topsyturvydom. But it may be that it is better never to have -left the land of a reasonable tradition, where men ride lightly upon -horses and are mighty hunters before the Lord. - -So also in the specially Christian case we have to react against the -heavy bias of fatigue. It is almost impossible to make the facts vivid, -because the facts are familiar; and for fallen men it is often true that -familiarity is fatigue. I am convinced that if we could tell the -supernatural story of Christ word for word as of a Chinese hero, call -him the Son of Heaven instead of the Son of God, and trace his rayed -nimbus in the gold thread of Chinese embroideries or the gold lacquer of -Chinese pottery instead of in the gold leaf of our own old Catholic -paintings, there would be a unanimous testimony to the spiritual purity -of the story. We should hear nothing then of the injustice of -substitution or the illogicality of atonement, of the superstitious -exaggeration of the burden of sin or the impossible insolence of an -invasion of the laws of nature. We should admire the chivalry of the -Chinese conception of a god who fell from the sky to fight the dragons -and save the wicked from being devoured by their own fault and folly. -We should admire the subtlety of the Chinese view of life, which -perceives that all human imperfection is in very truth a crying -imperfection. We should admire the Chinese esoteric and superior wisdom, -which said there are higher cosmic laws than the laws we know; we -believe every common Indian conjurer who chooses to come to us and talk -in the same style. If Christianity were only a new oriental fashion, it -would never be reproached with being an old and oriental faith. I do not -propose in this book to follow the alleged example of St. Francis Xavier -with the opposite imaginative intention, and turn the Twelve Apostles -into Mandarins; not so much to make them look like natives as to make -them look like foreigners. I do not propose to work what I believe would -be a completely successful practical joke; that of telling the whole -story of the Gospel and the whole history of the Church in a setting of -pagodas and pigtails; and noting with malignant humour how much it was -admired as a heathen story in the very quarters where it is condemned as -a Christian story. But I do propose to strike wherever possible this -note of what is new and strange, and for that reason the style even on -so serious a subject may sometimes be deliberately grotesque and -fanciful. I do desire to help the reader to see Christendom from the -outside in the sense of seeing it as a whole, against the background of -other historic things; just as I desire him to see humanity as a whole -against the background of natural things. And I say that in both cases, -when seen thus, they stand out from their background like supernatural -things. They do not fade into the rest with the colours of -impressionism; they stand out from the rest with the colours of -heraldry; as vivid as a red cross on a white shield or a black lion on a -ground of gold. So stands the Red Clay against the green field of -nature, or the White Christ against the red clay of his race. - -But in order to see them clearly we have to see them as a whole. We have -to see how they developed as well as how they began; for the most -incredible part of the story is that things which began thus should have -developed thus. Any one who chooses to indulge in mere imagination can -imagine that other things might have happened or other entities evolved. -Any one thinking of what might have happened may conceive a sort of -evolutionary equality; but any one facing what did happen must face an -exception and a prodigy. If there was ever a moment when man was only an -animal, we can if we choose make a fancy picture of his career -transferred to some other animal. An entertaining fantasia might be made -in which elephants built in elephantine architecture, with towers and -turrets like tusks and trunks, cities beyond the scale of any colossus. -A pleasant fable might be conceived in which a cow had developed a -costume, and put on four boots and two pairs of trousers. We could -imagine a Supermonkey more marvellous than any Superman, a quadrumanous -creature carving and painting with his hands and cooking and -carpentering with his feet. But if we are considering what did happen, -we shall certainly decide that man has distanced everything else with a -distance like that of the astronomical spaces and a speed like that of -the still thunderbolt of the light. And in the same fashion, while we -can if we choose see the Church amid a mob of Mithraic or Manichean -superstitions squabbling and killing each other at the end of the -Empire, while we can if we choose imagine the Church killed in the -struggle and some other chance cult taking its place, we shall be the -more surprised (and possibly puzzled) if we meet it two thousand years -afterwards rushing through the ages as the winged thunderbolt of thought -and everlasting enthusiasm; a thing without rival or resemblance; and -still as new as it is old. - - - - -PART I - -ON THE CREATURE CALLED MAN - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE MAN IN THE CAVE - - -Far away in some strange constellation in skies infinitely remote, there -is a small star, which astronomers may some day discover. At least I -could never observe in the faces or demeanour of most astronomers or men -of science any evidence that they had discovered it; though as a matter -of fact they were walking about on it all the time. It is a star that -brings forth out of itself very strange plants and very strange animals; -and none stranger than the men of science. That at least is the way in -which I should begin a history of the world if I had to follow the -scientific custom of beginning with an account of the astronomical -universe. I should try to see even this earth from the outside, not by -the hackneyed insistence of its relative position to the sun, but by -some imaginative effort to conceive its remote position for the -dehumanised spectator. Only I do not believe in being dehumanised in -order to study humanity. I do not believe in dwelling upon the distances -that are supposed to dwarf the world; I think there is even something a -trifle vulgar about this idea of trying to rebuke spirit by size. And as -the first idea is not feasible, that of making the earth a strange -planet so as to make it significant, I will not stoop to the other trick -of making it a small planet in order to make it insignificant. I would -rather insist that we do not even know that it is a planet at all, in -the sense in which we know that it is a place; and a very extraordinary -place too. That is the note which I wish to strike from the first, if -not in the astronomical, then in some more familiar fashion. - -One of my first journalistic adventures, or misadventures, concerned a -comment on Grant Allen, who had written a book about the Evolution of -the Idea of God. I happened to remark that it would be much more -interesting if God wrote a book about the evolution of the idea of Grant -Allen. And I remember that the editor objected to my remark on the -ground that it was blasphemous; which naturally amused me not a little. -For the joke of it was, of course, that it never occurred to him to -notice the title of the book itself, which really was blasphemous; for -it was, when translated into English, ‘I will show you how this -nonsensical notion that there is a God grew up among men.’ My remark was -strictly pious and proper; confessing the divine purpose even in its -most seemingly dark or meaningless manifestations. In that hour I -learned many things, including the fact that there is something purely -acoustic in much of that agnostic sort of reverence. The editor had not -seen the point, because in the title of the book the long word came at -the beginning and the short word at the end; whereas in my comment the -short word came at the beginning and gave him a sort of shock. I have -noticed that if you put a word like God into the same sentence with a -word like dog, these abrupt and angular words affect people like -pistol-shots. Whether you say that God made the dog or the dog made God -does not seem to matter; that is only one of the sterile disputations of -the too subtle theologians. But so long as you begin with a long word -like evolution the rest will roll harmlessly past; very probably the -editor had not read the whole of the title, for it is rather a long -title and he was rather a busy man. - -But this little incident has always lingered in my mind as a sort of -parable. Most modern histories of mankind begin with the word evolution, -and with a rather wordy exposition of evolution, for much the same -reason that operated in this case. There is something slow and soothing -and gradual about the word and even about the idea. As a matter of fact, -it is not, touching these primary things, a very practical word or a -very profitable idea. Nobody can imagine how nothing could turn into -something. Nobody can get an inch nearer to it by explaining how -something could turn into something else. It is really far more logical -to start by saying ‘In the beginning God created heaven and earth’ even -if you only mean ‘In the beginning some unthinkable power began some -unthinkable process.’ For God is by its nature a name of mystery, and -nobody ever supposed that man could imagine how a world was created any -more than he could create one. But evolution really is mistaken for -explanation. It has the fatal quality of leaving on many minds the -impression that they do understand it and everything else; just as many -of them live under a sort of illusion that they have read the _Origin of -Species_. - -But this notion of something smooth and slow, like the ascent of a -slope, is a great part of the illusion. It is an illogicality as well as -an illusion; for slowness has really nothing to do with the question. An -event is not any more intrinsically intelligible or unintelligible -because of the pace at which it moves. For a man who does not believe in -a miracle, a slow miracle would be just as incredible as a swift one. -The Greek witch may have turned sailors to swine with a stroke of the -wand. But to see a naval gentleman of our acquaintance looking a little -more like a pig every day, till he ended with four trotters and a curly -tail, would not be any more soothing. It might be rather more creepy and -uncanny. The medieval wizard may have flown through the air from the top -of a tower; but to see an old gentleman walking through the air, in a -leisurely and lounging manner, would still seem to call for some -explanation. Yet there runs through all the rationalistic treatment of -history this curious and confused idea that difficulty is avoided, or -even mystery eliminated, by dwelling on mere delay or on something -dilatory in the processes of things. There will be something to be said -upon particular examples elsewhere; the question here is the false -atmosphere of facility and ease given by the mere suggestion of going -slow; the sort of comfort that might be given to a nervous old woman -travelling for the first time in a motor-car. - -Mr. H. G. Wells has confessed to being a prophet; and in this matter he -was a prophet at his own expense. It is curious that his first -fairy-tale was a complete answer to his last book of history. The Time -Machine destroyed in advance all comfortable conclusions founded on the -mere relativity of time. In that sublime nightmare the hero saw trees -shoot up like green rockets, and vegetation spread visibly like a green -conflagration, or the sun shoot across the sky from east to west with -the swiftness of a meteor. Yet in his sense these things were quite as -natural when they went swiftly; and in our sense they are quite as -supernatural when they go slowly. The ultimate question is why they go -at all; and anybody who really understands that question will know that -it always has been and always will be a religious question; or at any -rate a philosophical or metaphysical question. And most certainly he -will not think the question answered by some substitution of gradual for -abrupt change; or, in other words, by a merely relative question of the -same story being spun out or rattled rapidly through, as can be done -with any story at a cinema by turning a handle. - -Now what is needed for these problems of primitive existence is -something more like a primitive spirit. In calling up this vision of the -first things, I would ask the reader to make with me a sort of -experiment in simplicity. And by simplicity I do not mean stupidity, but -rather the sort of clarity that sees things like life rather than words -like evolution. For this purpose it would really be better to turn the -handle of the Time Machine a little more quickly and see the grass -growing and the trees springing up into the sky, if that experiment -could contract and concentrate and make vivid the upshot of the whole -affair. What we know, in a sense in which we know nothing else, is that -the trees and the grass did grow and that a number of other -extraordinary things do in fact happen; that queer creatures support -themselves in the empty air by beating it with fans of various fantastic -shapes; that other queer creatures steer themselves about alive under a -load of mighty waters; that other queer creatures walk about on four -legs, and that the queerest creature of all walks about on two. These -are things and not theories; and compared with them evolution and the -atom and even the solar system are merely theories. The matter here is -one of history and not of philosophy; so that it need only be noted that -no philosopher denies that a mystery still attaches to the two great -transitions: the origin of the universe itself and the origin of the -principle of life itself. Most philosophers have the enlightenment to -add that a third mystery attaches to the origin of man himself. In other -words, a third bridge was built across a third abyss of the unthinkable -when there came into the world what we call reason and what we call -will. Man is not merely an evolution but rather a revolution. That he -has a backbone or other parts upon a similar pattern to birds and fishes -is an obvious fact, whatever be the meaning of the fact. But if we -attempt to regard him, as it were, as a quadruped standing on his hind -legs, we shall find what follows far more fantastic and subversive than -if he were standing on his head. - -I will take one example to serve for an introduction to the story of -man. It illustrates what I mean by saying that a certain childish -directness is needed to see the truth about the childhood of the world. -It illustrates what I mean by saying that a mixture of popular science -and journalistic jargon has confused the facts about the first things, -so that we cannot see which of them really comes first. It illustrates, -though only in one convenient illustration, all that I mean by the -necessity of seeing the sharp differences that give its shape to -history, instead of being submerged in all these generalisations about -slowness and sameness. For we do indeed require, in Mr. Wells’s phrase, -an outline of history. But we may venture to say, in Mr. Mantalini’s -phrase, that this evolutionary history has no outline or is a demd -outline. But, above all, it illustrates what I mean by saying that the -more we really look at man as an animal, the less he will look like one. - -To-day all our novels and newspapers will be found swarming with -numberless allusions to a popular character called a Cave-Man. He seems -to be quite familiar to us, not only as a public character but as a -private character. His psychology is seriously taken into account in -psychological fiction and psychological medicine. So far as I can -understand, his chief occupation in life was knocking his wife about, or -treating women in general with what is, I believe, known in the world of -the film as ‘rough stuff.’ I have never happened to come upon the -evidence for this idea; and I do not know on what primitive diaries or -prehistoric divorce-reports it is founded. Nor, as I have explained -elsewhere, have I ever been able to see the probability of it, even -considered a priori. We are always told without any explanation or -authority that primitive man waved a club and knocked the woman down -before he carried her off. But on every animal analogy, it would seem an -almost morbid modesty and reluctance, on the part of the lady, always to -insist on being knocked down before consenting to be carried off. And I -repeat that I can never comprehend why, when the male was so very rude, -the female should have been so very refined. The cave-man may have been -a brute, but there is no reason why he should have been more brutal than -the brutes. And the loves of the giraffes and the river romances of the -hippopotami are effected without any of this preliminary fracas or -shindy. The cave-man may have been no better than the cave-bear; but the -child she-bear, so famous in hymnology, is not trained with any such -bias for spinsterhood. In short, these details of the domestic life of -the cave puzzle me upon either the evolutionary or the static -hypothesis; and in any case I should like to look into the evidence for -them; but unfortunately I have never been able to find it. But the -curious thing is this: that while ten thousand tongues of more or less -scientific or literary gossip seemed to be talking at once about this -unfortunate fellow, under the title of the cave-man, the one connection -in which it is really relevant and sensible to talk about him as the -cave-man has been comparatively neglected. People have used this loose -term in twenty loose ways; but they have never even looked at their own -term for what could really be learned from it. - -In fact, people have been interested in everything about the cave-man -except what he did in the cave. Now there does happen to be some real -evidence of what he did in the cave. It is little enough, like all the -prehistoric evidence, but it is concerned with the real cave-man and his -cave and not the literary cave-man and his club. And it will be valuable -to our sense of reality to consider quite simply what that real evidence -is, and not to go beyond it. What was found in the cave was not the -club, the horrible gory club notched with the number of women it had -knocked on the head. The cave was not a Bluebeard’s Chamber filled with -the skeletons of slaughtered wives; it was not filled with female skulls -all arranged in rows and all cracked like eggs. It was something quite -unconnected, one way or the other, with all the modern phrases and -philosophical implications and literary rumours which confuse the whole -question for us. And if we wish to see as it really is this authentic -glimpse of the morning of the world, it will be far better to conceive -even the story of its discovery as some such legend of the land of -morning. It would be far better to tell the tale of what was really -found as simply as the tale of heroes finding the Golden Fleece or the -Gardens of the Hesperides, if we could so escape from a fog of -controversial theories into the clear colours and clean-cut outlines of -such a dawn. The old epic poets at least knew how to tell a story, -possibly a tall story but never a twisted story, never a story tortured -out of its own shape to fit theories and philosophies invented centuries -afterwards. It would be well if modern investigators could describe -their discoveries in the bald narrative style of the earliest -travellers, and without any of these long allusive words that are full -of irrelevant implication and suggestion. Then we might realise exactly -what we do know about the cave-man, or at any rate about the cave. - -A priest and a boy entered some time ago a hollow in the hills and -passed into a sort of subterranean tunnel that led into a labyrinth of -such sealed and secret corridors of rock. They crawled through cracks -that seemed almost impassable, they crept through tunnels that might -have been made for moles, they dropped into holes as hopeless as wells, -they seemed to be burying themselves alive seven times over beyond the -hope of resurrection. This is but the commonplace of all such courageous -exploration; but what is needed here is some one who shall put such -stories in the primary light, in which they are not commonplace. There -is, for instance, something strangely symbolic in the accident that the -first intruders into that sunken world were a priest and a boy, the -types of the antiquity and of the youth of the world. But here I am -even more concerned with the symbolism of the boy than with that of the -priest. Nobody who remembers boyhood needs to be told what it might be -to a boy to enter like Peter Pan under a roof of the roots of all the -trees and go deeper and deeper, till he reach what William Morris called -the very roots of the mountains. Suppose somebody, with that simple and -unspoilt realism that is a part of innocence, to pursue that journey to -its end, not for the sake of what he could deduce or demonstrate in some -dusty magazine controversy, but simply for the sake of what he could -see. What he did see at last was a cavern so far from the light of day -that it might have been the legendary Domdaniel cavern that was under -the floor of the sea. This secret chamber of rock, when illuminated -after its long night of unnumbered ages, revealed on its walls large and -sprawling outlines diversified with coloured earths; and when they -followed the lines of them they recognised, across that vast and void of -ages, the movement and the gesture of a man’s hand. They were drawings -or paintings of animals; and they were drawn or painted not only by a -man but by an artist. Under whatever archaic limitations, they showed -that love of the long sweeping or the long wavering line which any man -who has ever drawn or tried to draw will recognise; and about which no -artist will allow himself to be contradicted by any scientist. They -showed the experimental and adventurous spirit of the artist, the spirit -that does not avoid but attempt difficult things; as where the -draughtsman had represented the action of the stag when he swings his -head clean round and noses towards his tail, an action familiar enough -in the horse. But there are many modern animal-painters who would set -themselves something of a task in rendering it truly. In this and twenty -other details it is clear that the artist had watched animals with a -certain interest and presumably a certain pleasure. In that sense it -would seem that he was not only an artist but a naturalist; the sort of -naturalist who is really natural. - -Now it is needless to note, except in passing, that there is nothing -whatever in the atmosphere of that cave to suggest the bleak and -pessimistic atmosphere of that journalistic cave of the winds, that -blows and bellows about us with countless echoes concerning the -cave-man. So far as any human character can be hinted at by such traces -of the past, that human character is quite human and even humane. It is -certainly not the ideal of an inhuman character, like the abstraction -invoked in popular science. When novelists and educationists and -psychologists of all sorts talk about the cave-man, they never conceive -him in connection with anything that is really in the cave. When the -realist of the sex novel writes, ‘Red sparks danced in Dagmar -Doubledick’s brain; he felt the spirit of the cave-man rising within -him,’ the novelist’s readers would be very much disappointed if Dagmar -only went off and drew large pictures of cows on the drawing-room wall. -When the psychoanalyst writes to a patient, ‘The submerged instincts of -the cave-man are doubtless prompting you to gratify a violent impulse,’ -he does not refer to the impulse to paint in water-colours; or to make -conscientious studies of how cattle swing their heads when they graze. -Yet we do know for a fact that the cave-man did these mild and innocent -things; and we have not the most minute speck of evidence that he did -any of the violent and ferocious things. In other words, the cave-man as -commonly presented to us is simply a myth or rather a muddle; for a myth -has at least an imaginative outline of truth. The whole of the current -way of talking is simply a confusion and a misunderstanding, founded on -no sort of scientific evidence and valued only as an excuse for a very -modern mood of anarchy. If any gentleman wants to knock a woman about, -he can surely be a cad without taking away the character of the -cave-man, about whom we know next to nothing except what we can gather -from a few harmless and pleasing pictures on a wall. - -But this is not the point about the pictures or the particular moral -here to be drawn from them. That moral is something much larger and -simpler, so large and simple that when it is first stated it will sound -childish. And indeed it is in the highest sense childish; and that is -why I have in this apologue in some sense seen it through the eyes of a -child. It is the biggest of all the facts really facing the boy in the -cavern; and is perhaps too big to be seen. If the boy was one of the -flock of the priest, it may be presumed that he had been trained in a -certain quality of common sense; that common sense that often comes to -us in the form of tradition. In that case he would simply recognise the -primitive man’s work as the work of a man, interesting but in no way -incredible in being primitive. He would see what was there to see; and -he would not be tempted into seeing what was not there, by any -evolutionary excitement or fashionable speculation. If he had heard of -such things he would admit, of course, that the speculations might be -true and were not incompatible with the facts that were true. The artist -may have had another side to his character besides that which he has -alone left on record in his works of art. The primitive man may have -taken a pleasure in beating women as well as in drawing animals; all we -can say is that the drawings record the one but not the other. It may be -true that when the cave-man’s finished jumping on his mother, or his -wife as the case may be, he loves to hear the little brook a-gurgling, -and also to watch the deer as they come down to drink at the brook. -These things are not impossible, but they are irrelevant. The common -sense of the child could confine itself to learning from the facts what -the facts have to teach; and the pictures in the cave are very nearly -all the facts there are. So far as that evidence goes, the child would -be justified in assuming that a man had represented animals with rock -and red ochre for the same reason as he himself was in the habit of -trying to represent animals with charcoal and red chalk. The man had -drawn a stag just as the child had drawn a horse; because it was fun. -The man had drawn a stag with his head turned as the child had drawn a -pig with his eyes shut; because it was difficult. The child and the man, -being both human, would be united by the brotherhood of men; and the -brotherhood of men is even nobler when it bridges the abyss of ages than -when it bridges only the chasm of class. But anyhow he would see no -evidence of the cave-man of crude evolutionism; because there is none to -be seen. If somebody told him that the pictures had all been drawn by -St. Francis of Assisi out of pure and saintly love of animals, there -would be nothing in the cave to contradict it. - -Indeed I once knew a lady who half-humorously suggested that the cave -was a crèche, in which the babies were put to be specially safe, and -that coloured animals were drawn on the walls to amuse them; very much -as diagrams of elephants and giraffes adorn a modern infant school. And -though this was but a jest, it does draw attention to some of the other -assumptions that we make only too readily. The pictures do not prove -even that the cave-men lived in caves, any more than the discovery of a -wine-cellar in Balham (long after that suburb had been destroyed by -human or divine wrath) would prove that the Victorian middle classes -lived entirely underground. The cave might have had a special purpose -like the cellar; it might have been a religious shrine or a refuge in -war or the meeting-place of a secret society or all sorts of things. But -it is quite true that its artistic decoration has much more of the -atmosphere of a nursery than of any of these nightmares of anarchical -fury and fear. I have conceived a child as standing in the cave; and it -is easy to conceive any child, modern or immeasurably remote, as making -a living gesture as if to pat the painted beasts upon the wall. In that -gesture there is a foreshadowing, as we shall see later, of another -cavern and another child. - -But suppose the boy had not been taught by a priest but by a professor, -by one of the professors who simplify the relation of men and beasts to -a mere evolutionary variation. Suppose the boy saw himself, with the -same simplicity and sincerity, as a mere Mowgli running with the pack of -nature and roughly indistinguishable from the rest save by a relative -and recent variation. What would be for him the simplest lesson of that -strange stone picture-book? After all, it would come back to this; that -he had dug very deep and found the place where a man had drawn a picture -of a reindeer. But he would dig a good deal deeper before he found a -place where a reindeer had drawn a picture of a man. That sounds like a -truism, but in this connection it is really a very tremendous truth. He -might descend to depths unthinkable, he might sink into sunken -continents as strange as remote stars, he might find himself in the -inside of the world as far from men as the other side of the moon; he -might see in those cold chasms or colossal terraces of stone, traced in -the faint hieroglyphic of the fossil, the ruins of lost dynasties of -biological life, rather like the ruins of successive creations and -separate universes than the stages in the story of one. He would find -the trail of monsters blindly developing in directions outside all our -common imagery of fish and bird; groping and grasping and touching life -with every extravagant elongation of horn and tongue and tentacle; -growing a forest of fantastic caricatures of the claw and the fin and -the finger. But nowhere would he find one finger that had traced one -significant line upon the sand; nowhere one claw that had even begun to -scratch the faint suggestion of a form. To all appearance, the thing -would be as unthinkable in all those countless cosmic variations of -forgotten aeons as it would be in the beasts and birds before our eyes. -The child would no more expect to see it than to see the cat scratch on -the wall a vindictive caricature of the dog. The childish common sense -would keep the most evolutionary child from expecting to see anything -like that; yet in the traces of the rude and recently evolved ancestors -of humanity he would have seen exactly that. It must surely strike him -as strange that men so remote from him should be so near, and that -beasts so near to him should be so remote. To his simplicity it must -seem at least odd that he could not find any trace of the beginning of -any arts among any animals. That is the simplest lesson to learn in the -cavern of the coloured pictures; only it is too simple to be learnt. It -is the simple truth that man does differ from the brutes in kind and not -in degree; and the proof of it is here; that it sounds like a truism to -say that the most primitive man drew a picture of a monkey, and that it -sounds like a joke to say that the most intelligent monkey drew a -picture of a man. Something of division and disproportion has appeared; -and it is unique. Art is the signature of man. - -That is the sort of simple truth with which a story of the beginnings -ought really to begin. The evolutionist stands staring in the painted -cavern at the things that are too large to be seen and too simple to be -understood. He tries to deduce all sorts of other indirect and doubtful -things from the details of the pictures, because he cannot see the -primary significance of the whole; thin and theoretical deductions about -the absence of religion or the presence of superstition; about tribal -government and hunting and human sacrifice and heaven knows what. In the -next chapter I shall try to trace in a little more detail the much -disputed question about these prehistoric origins of human ideas and -especially of the religious idea. Here I am only taking this one case of -the cave as a sort of symbol of the simpler sort of truth with which the -story ought to start. When all is said, the main fact that the record of -the reindeer men attests, along with all other records, is that the -reindeer man could draw and the reindeer could not. If the reindeer man -was as much an animal as the reindeer, it was all the more extraordinary -that he could do what all other animals could not. If he was an ordinary -product of biological growth, like any other beast or bird, then it is -all the more extraordinary that he was not in the least like any other -beast or bird. He seems rather more supernatural as a natural product -than as a supernatural one. - -But I have begun this story in the cave, like the cave of the -speculations of Plato, because it is a sort of model of the mistake of -merely evolutionary introductions and prefaces. It is useless to begin -by saying that everything was slow and smooth and a mere matter of -development and degree. For in a plain matter like the pictures there is -in fact not a trace of any such development or degree. Monkeys did not -begin pictures and men finish them; Pithecanthropus did not draw a -reindeer badly and Homo Sapiens draw it well. The higher animals did not -draw better and better portraits; the dog did not paint better in his -best period than in his early bad manner as a jackal; the wild horse was -not an Impressionist and the race-horse a Post-Impressionist. All we can -say of this notion of reproducing things in shadow or representative -shape is that it exists nowhere in nature except in man; and that we -cannot even talk about it without treating man as something separate -from nature. In other words, every sane sort of history must begin with -man as man, a thing standing absolute and alone. How he came there, or -indeed how anything else came there, is a thing for theologians and -philosophers and scientists and not for historians. But an excellent -test case of this isolation and mystery is the matter of the impulse of -art. This creature was truly different from all other creatures; because -he was a creator as well as a creature. Nothing in that sense could be -made in any other image but the image of man. But the truth is so true -that, even in the absence of any religious belief, it must be assumed in -the form of some moral or metaphysical principle. In the next chapter we -shall see how this principle applies to all the historical hypotheses -and evolutionary ethics now in fashion; to the origins of tribal -government or mythological belief. But the clearest and most convenient -example to start with is this popular one of what the cave-man really -did in his cave. It means that somehow or other a new thing had appeared -in the cavernous night of nature; a mind that is like a mirror. It is -like a mirror because it is truly a thing of reflection. It is like a -mirror because in it alone all the other shapes can be seen like shining -shadows in a vision. Above all, it is like a mirror because it is the -only thing of its kind. Other things may resemble it or resemble each -other in various ways; other things may excel it or excel each other in -various ways; just as in the furniture of a room a table may be round -like a mirror or a cupboard may be larger than a mirror. But the mirror -is the only thing that can contain them all. Man is the microcosm; man -is the measure of all things; man is the image of God. These are the -only real lessons to be learnt in the cave, and it is time to leave it -for the open road. - -It will be well in this place, however, to sum up once and for all what -is meant by saying that man is at once the exception to everything and -the mirror and the measure of all things. But to see man as he is, it is -necessary once more to keep close to that simplicity that can clear -itself of accumulated clouds of sophistry. The simplest truth about man -is that he is a very strange being; almost in the sense of being a -stranger on the earth. In all sobriety, he has much more of the external -appearance of one bringing alien habits from another land than of a mere -growth of this one. He has an unfair advantage and an unfair -disadvantage. He cannot sleep in his own skin; he cannot trust his own -instincts. He is at once a creator moving miraculous hands and fingers -and a kind of cripple. He is wrapped in artificial bandages called -clothes; he is propped on artificial crutches called furniture. His mind -has the same doubtful liberties and the same wild limitations. Alone -among the animals, he is shaken with the beautiful madness called -laughter; as if he had caught sight of some secret in the very shape of -the universe hidden from the universe itself. Alone among the animals he -feels the need of averting his thoughts from the root realities of his -own bodily being; of hiding them as in the presence of some higher -possibility which creates the mystery of shame. Whether we praise these -things as natural to man or abuse them as artificial in nature, they -remain in the same sense unique. This is realised by the whole popular -instinct called religion, until disturbed by pedants, especially the -laborious pedants of the Simple Life. The most sophistical of all -sophists are Gymnosophists. - -It is not natural to see man as a natural product. It is not common -sense to call man a common object of the country or the seashore. It is -not seeing straight to see him as an animal. It is not sane. It sins -against the light; against that broad daylight of proportion which is -the principle of all reality. It is reached by stretching a point, by -making out a case, by artificially selecting a certain light and shade, -by bringing into prominence the lesser or lower things which may happen -to be similar. The solid thing standing in the sunlight, the thing we -can walk round and see from all sides, is quite different. It is also -quite extraordinary; and the more sides we see of it the more -extraordinary it seems. It is emphatically not a thing that follows or -flows naturally from anything else. If we imagine that an inhuman or -impersonal intelligence could have felt from the first the general -nature of the non-human world sufficiently to see that things would -evolve in whatever way they did evolve, there would have been nothing -whatever in all that natural world to prepare such a mind for such an -unnatural novelty. To such a mind, man would most certainly not have -seemed something like one herd out of a hundred herds finding richer -pasture; or one swallow out of a hundred swallows making a summer under -a strange sky. It would not be in the same scale and scarcely in the -same dimension. We might as truly say that it would not be in the same -universe. It would be more like seeing one cow out of a hundred cows -suddenly jump over the moon or one pig out of a hundred pigs grow wings -in a flash and fly. It would not be a question of the cattle finding -their own grazing-ground but of their building their own cattle-sheds, -not a question of one swallow making a summer but of his making a -summer-house. For the very fact that birds do build nests is one of -those similarities that sharpen the startling difference. The very fact -that a bird can get as far as building a nest, and cannot get any -farther, proves that he has not a mind as man has a mind; it proves it -more completely than if he built nothing at all. If he built nothing at -all, he might possibly be a philosopher of the Quietist or Buddhistic -school, indifferent to all but the mind within. But when he builds as he -does build and is satisfied and sings aloud with satisfaction, then we -know there is really an invisible veil like a pane of glass between him -and us, like the window on which a bird will beat in vain. But suppose -our abstract onlooker saw one of the birds begin to build as men build. -Suppose in an incredibly short space of time there were seven styles of -architecture for one style of nest. Suppose the bird carefully selected -forked twigs and pointed leaves to express the piercing piety of Gothic, -but turned to broad foliage and black mud when he sought in a darker -mood to call up the heavy columns of Bel and Ashtaroth; making his nest -indeed one of the hanging gardens of Babylon. Suppose the bird made -little clay statues of birds celebrated in letters or politics and stuck -them up in front of the nest. Suppose that one bird out of a thousand -birds began to do one of the thousand things that man had already done -even in the morning of the world; and we can be quite certain that the -onlooker would not regard such a bird as a mere evolutionary variety of -the other birds; he would regard it as a very fearful wild-fowl indeed; -possibly as a bird of ill-omen, certainly as an omen. That bird would -tell the augurs, not of something that would happen, but of something -that had happened. That something would be the appearance of a mind with -a new dimension of depth; a mind like that of man. If there be no God, -no other mind could conceivably have foreseen it. - -Now, as a matter of fact, there is not a shadow of evidence that _this_ -thing was evolved at all. There is not a particle of proof that _this_ -transition came slowly, or even that it came naturally. In a strictly -scientific sense, we simply know nothing whatever about how it grew, or -whether it grew, or what it is. There may be a broken trail of stones -and bones faintly suggesting the development of the human body. There is -nothing even faintly suggesting such a development of this human mind. -It was not and it was; we know not in what instant or in what infinity -of years. Something happened; and it has all the appearance of a -transaction outside time. It has therefore nothing to do with history in -the ordinary sense. The historian must take it or something like it for -granted; it is not his business as a historian to explain it. But if he -cannot explain it as a historian, he will not explain it as a biologist. -In neither case is there any disgrace to him in accepting it without -explaining it; for it is a reality, and history and biology deal with -realities. He is quite justified in calmly confronting the pig with -wings and the cow that jumped over the moon, merely because they have -happened. He can reasonably accept man as a freak, because he accepts -man as a fact. He can be perfectly comfortable in a crazy and -disconnected world, or in a world that can produce such a crazy and -disconnected thing. For reality is a thing in which we can all repose, -even if it hardly seems related to anything else. The thing is there; -and that is enough for most of us. But if we do indeed want to know how -it can conceivably have come there, if we do indeed wish to see it -related realistically to other things, if we do insist on seeing it -evolved before our very eyes from an environment nearer to its own -nature, then assuredly it is to very different things that we must go. -We must stir very strange memories and return to very simple dreams if -we desire some origin that can make man other than a monster. We shall -have discovered very different causes before he becomes a creature of -causation; and invoked other authority to turn him into something -reasonable, or even into anything probable. That way lies all that is at -once awful and familiar and forgotten, with dreadful faces thronged and -fiery arms. We can accept man as a fact, if we are content with an -unexplained fact. We can accept him as an animal, if we can live with a -fabulous animal. But if we must needs have sequence and necessity, then -indeed we must provide a prelude and crescendo of mounting miracles, -that ushered in with unthinkable thunders in all the seven heavens of -another order, a man may be an ordinary thing. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -PROFESSORS AND PREHISTORIC MEN - - -Science is weak about these prehistoric things in a way that has hardly -been noticed. The science whose modern marvels we all admire succeeds by -incessantly adding to its data. In all practical inventions, in most -natural discoveries, it can always increase evidence by experiment. But -it cannot experiment in making men; or even in watching to see what the -first men make. An inventor can advance step by step in the construction -of an aeroplane, even if he is only experimenting with sticks and scraps -of metal in his own back-yard. But he cannot watch the Missing Link -evolving in his own back-yard. If he has made a mistake in his -calculations, the aeroplane will correct it by crashing to the ground. -But if he has made a mistake about the arboreal habitat of his ancestor, -he cannot see his arboreal ancestor falling off the tree. He cannot keep -a cave-man like a cat in the back-yard and watch him to see whether he -does really practise cannibalism or carry off his mate on the principles -of marriage by capture. He cannot keep a tribe of primitive men like a -pack of hounds and notice how far they are influenced by the herd -instinct. If he sees a particular bird behave in a particular way, he -can get other birds and see if they behave in that way; but if he finds -a skull, or the scrap of a skull, in the hollow of a hill, he cannot -multiply it into a vision of the valley of dry bones. In dealing with a -past that has almost entirely perished, he can only go by evidence and -not by experiment. And there is hardly enough evidence to be even -evidential. Thus while most science moves in a sort of curve, being -constantly corrected by new evidence, this science flies off into space -in a straight line uncorrected by anything. But the habit of forming -conclusions, as they can really be formed in more fruitful fields, is so -fixed in the scientific mind that it cannot resist talking like this. It -talks about the idea suggested by one scrap of bone as if it were -something like the aeroplane which is constructed at last out of whole -scrap-heaps of scraps of metal. The trouble with the professor of the -prehistoric is that he cannot scrap his scrap. The marvellous and -triumphant aeroplane is made out of a hundred mistakes. The student of -origins can only make one mistake and stick to it. - -We talk very truly of the patience of science; but in this department it -would be truer to talk of the impatience of science. Owing to the -difficulty above described, the theorist is in far too much of a hurry. -We have a series of hypotheses so hasty that they may well be called -fancies, and cannot in any case be further corrected by facts. The most -empirical anthropologist is here as limited as an antiquary. He can only -cling to a fragment of the past and has no way of increasing it for the -future. He can only clutch his fragment of fact, almost as the primitive -man clutched his fragment of flint. And indeed he does deal with it in -much the same way and for much the same reason. It is his tool and his -only tool. It is his weapon and his only weapon. He often wields it with -a fanaticism far in excess of anything shown by men of science when they -can collect more facts from experience and even add new facts by -experiment. Sometimes the professor with his bone becomes almost as -dangerous as a dog with his bone. And the dog at least does not deduce a -theory from it, proving that mankind is going to the dogs--or that it -came from them. - -For instance, I have pointed out the difficulty of keeping a monkey and -watching it evolve into a man. Experimental evidence of such an -evolution being impossible, the professor is not content to say (as most -of us would be ready to say) that such an evolution is likely enough -anyhow. He produces his little bone, or little collection of bones, and -deduces the most marvellous things from it. He found in Java a part of a -skull, seeming by its contour to be smaller than the human. Somewhere -near it he found an upright thigh-bone, and in the same scattered -fashion some teeth that were not human. If they all form part of one -creature, which is doubtful, our conception of the creature would be -almost equally doubtful. But the effect on popular science was to -produce a complete and even complex figure, finished down to the last -details of hair and habits. He was given a name as if he were an -ordinary historical character. People talked of Pithecanthropus as of -Pitt or Fox or Napoleon. Popular histories published portraits of him -like the portraits of Charles the First and George the Fourth. A -detailed drawing was reproduced, carefully shaded, to show that the very -hairs of his head were all numbered. No uninformed person looking at its -carefully lined face and wistful eyes would imagine for a moment that -this was the portrait of a thigh-bone; or of a few teeth and a fragment -of a cranium. In the same way people talked about him as if he were an -individual whose influence and character were familiar to us all. I have -just read a story in a magazine about Java, and how modern white -inhabitants of that island are prevailed on to misbehave themselves by -the personal influence of poor old Pithecanthropus. That the modern -inhabitants of Java misbehave themselves I can very readily believe; but -I do not imagine that they need any encouragement from the discovery of -a few highly doubtful bones. Anyhow, those bones are far too few and -fragmentary and dubious to fill up the whole of the vast void that does -in reason and in reality lie between man and his bestial ancestors, if -they were his ancestors. On the assumption of that evolutionary -connection (a connection which I am not in the least concerned to deny), -the really arresting and remarkable fact is the comparative absence of -any such remains recording that connection at that point. The sincerity -of Darwin really admitted this; and that is how we came to use such a -term as the Missing Link. But the dogmatism of Darwinians has been too -strong for the agnosticism of Darwin; and men have insensibly fallen -into turning this entirely negative term into a positive image. They -talk of searching for the habits and habitat of the Missing Link; as if -one were to talk of being on friendly terms with the gap in a narrative -or the hole in an argument, of taking a walk with a _non-sequitur_ or -dining with an undistributed middle. - -In this sketch, therefore, of man in his relation to certain religious -and historical problems, I shall waste no further space on these -speculations on the nature of man before he became man. His body may -have been evolved from the brutes; but we know nothing of any such -transition that throws the smallest light upon his soul as it has shown -itself in history. Unfortunately the same school of writers pursue the -same style of reasoning when they come to the first real evidence about -the first real men. Strictly speaking of course we know nothing about -prehistoric man, for the simple reason that he was prehistoric. The -history of prehistoric man is a very obvious contradiction in terms. It -is the sort of unreason in which only rationalists are allowed to -indulge. If a parson had casually observed that the Flood was -antediluvian, it is possible that he might be a little chaffed about his -logic. If a bishop were to say that Adam was Preadamite, we might think -it a little odd. But we are not supposed to notice such verbal trifles -when sceptical historians talk of the part of history that is -prehistoric. The truth is that they are using the terms historic and -prehistoric without any clear test or definition in their minds. What -they mean is that there are traces of human lives before the beginning -of human stories; and in that sense we do at least know that humanity -was before history. - -Human civilisation is older than human records. That is the sane way of -stating our relations to these remote things. Humanity has left examples -of its other arts earlier than the art of writing; or at least of any -writing that we can read. But it is certain that the primitive arts were -arts; and it is in every way probable that the primitive civilisations -were civilisations. The man left a picture of the reindeer, but he did -not leave a narrative of how he hunted the reindeer; and therefore what -we say of him is hypothesis and not history. But the art he did practise -was quite artistic; his drawing was quite intelligent, and there is no -reason to doubt that his story of the hunt would be quite intelligent, -only if it exists it is not intelligible. In short, the prehistoric -period need not mean the primitive period, in the sense of the barbaric -or bestial period. It does not mean the time before civilisation or the -time before arts and crafts. It simply means the time before any -connected narratives that we can read. This does indeed make all the -practical difference between remembrance and forgetfulness; but it is -perfectly possible that there were all sorts of forgotten forms of -civilisation, as well as all sorts of forgotten forms of barbarism. And -in any case everything indicated that many of these forgotten or -half-forgotten social stages were much more civilised and much less -barbaric than is vulgarly imagined to-day. But even about these -unwritten histories of humanity, when humanity was quite certainly -human, we can only conjecture with the greatest doubt and caution. And -unfortunately doubt and caution are the last things commonly encouraged -by the loose evolutionism of current culture. For that culture is full -of curiosity; and the one thing that it cannot endure is the agony of -agnosticism. It was in the Darwinian age that the word first became -known and the thing first became impossible. - -It is necessary to say plainly that all this ignorance is simply covered -by impudence. Statements are made so plainly and positively that men -have hardly the moral courage to pause upon them and find that they are -without support. The other day a scientific summary of the state of a -prehistoric tribe began confidently with the words ‘They wore no -clothes.’ Not one reader in a hundred probably stopped to ask himself -how we should come to know whether clothes had once been worn by people -of whom everything has perished except a few chips of bone and stone. It -was doubtless hoped that we should find a stone hat as well as a stone -hatchet. It was evidently anticipated that we might discover an -everlasting pair of trousers of the same substance as the everlasting -rock. But to persons of a less sanguine temperament it will be -immediately apparent that people might wear simple garments, or even -highly ornamental garments, without leaving any more traces of them than -these people have left. The plaiting of rushes and grasses, for -instance, might have become more and more elaborate without in the least -becoming more eternal. One civilisation might specialise in things that -happened to be perishable, like weaving and embroidering, and not in -things that happen to be more permanent, like architecture and -sculpture. There have been plenty of examples of such specialist -societies. A man of the future finding the ruins of our factory -machinery might as fairly say that we were acquainted with iron and with -no other substance; and announce the discovery that the proprietor and -manager of the factory undoubtedly walked about naked--or possibly wore -iron hats and trousers. - -It is not contended here that these primitive men did wear clothes any -more than they did weave rushes; but merely that we have not enough -evidence to know whether they did or not. But it may be worth while to -look back for a moment at some of the very few things that we do know -and that they did do. If we consider them, we shall certainly not find -them inconsistent with such ideas as dress and decoration. We do not -know whether they decorated themselves; but we do know that they -decorated other things. We do not know whether they had embroideries, -and if they had, the embroideries could not be expected to have -remained. But we do know that they did have pictures; and the pictures -have remained. And there remains with them, as already suggested, the -testimony to something that is absolute and unique; that belongs to man -and to nothing else except man; that is a difference of kind and not a -difference of degree. A monkey does not draw clumsily and a man -cleverly; a monkey does not begin the art of representation and a man -carry it to perfection. A monkey does not do it at all; he does not -begin to do it at all; he does not begin to begin to do it at all. A -line of some kind is crossed before the first faint line can begin. - -Another distinguished writer, again, in commenting on the cave-drawings -attributed to the neolithic men of the reindeer period, said that none -of their pictures appeared to have any religious purpose; and he seemed -almost to infer that they had no religion. I can hardly imagine a -thinner thread of argument than this which reconstructs the very inmost -moods of the prehistoric mind from the fact that somebody who has -scrawled a few sketches on a rock, from what motive we do not know, for -what purpose we do not know, acting under what customs or conventions we -do not know, may possibly have found it easier to draw reindeers than to -draw religion. He may have drawn it because it was his religious symbol. -He may have drawn it because it was not his religious symbol. He may -have drawn anything except his religious symbol. He may have drawn his -real religious symbol somewhere else; or it may have been deliberately -destroyed when it was drawn. He may have done or not done half a million -things; but in any case it is an amazing leap of logic to infer that he -had no religious symbol, or even to infer from his having no religious -symbol that he had no religion. Now this particular case happens to -illustrate the insecurity of these guesses very clearly. For a little -while afterwards, people discovered not only paintings but sculptures of -animals in the caves. Some of these were said to be damaged with dints -or holes supposed to be the marks of arrows; and the damaged images were -conjectured to be the remains of some magic rite of killing the beasts -in effigy; while the undamaged images were explained in connection with -another magic rite invoking fertility upon the herds. Here again there -is something faintly humorous about the scientific habit of having it -both ways. If the image is damaged it proves one superstition and if it -is undamaged it proves another. Here again there is a rather reckless -jumping to conclusions; it has hardly occurred to the speculators that a -crowd of hunters imprisoned in winter in a cave might conceivably have -aimed at a mark for fun, as a sort of primitive parlour game. But in any -case, if it was done out of superstition, what has become of the thesis -that it had nothing to do with religion? The truth is that all this -guesswork has nothing to do with anything. It is not half such a good -parlour game as shooting arrows at a carved reindeer, for it is shooting -them into the air. - -Such speculators rather tend to forget, for instance, that men in the -modern world also sometimes make marks in caves. When a crowd of -trippers is conducted through the labyrinth of the Marvellous Grotto or -the Magic Stalactite Cavern, it has been observed that hieroglyphics -spring into sight where they have passed; initials and inscriptions -which the learned refuse to refer to any remote date. But the time will -come when these inscriptions will really be of remote date. And if the -professors of the future are anything like the professors of the -present, they will be able to deduce a vast number of very vivid and -interesting things from these cave-writings of the twentieth century. If -I know anything about the breed, and if they have not fallen away from -the full-blooded confidence of their fathers, they will be able to -discover the most fascinating facts about us from the initials left in -the Magic Grotto by ’Arry and ’Arriet, possibly in the form of two -intertwined A’s. From this alone they will know (1) That as the letters -are rudely chipped with a blunt pocket-knife, the twentieth century -possessed no delicate graving-tools and was unacquainted with the art of -sculpture. (2) That as the letters are capital letters, our civilisation -never evolved any small letters or anything like a running hand. (3) -That because initial consonants stand together in an unpronounceable -fashion, our language was possibly akin to Welsh or more probably of the -early Semitic type that ignored vowels. (4) That as the initials of -’Arry and ’Arriet do not in any special fashion profess to be religious -symbols, our civilisation possessed no religion. Perhaps the last is -about the nearest to the truth; for a civilisation that had religion -would have a little more reason. - -It is commonly affirmed, again, that religion grew in a very slow and -evolutionary manner; and even that it grew not from one cause, but from -a combination that might be called a coincidence. Generally speaking, -the three chief elements in the combination are, first, the fear of the -chief of the tribe (whom Mr. Wells insists on calling, with regrettable -familiarity, the Old Man), second, the phenomena of dreams, and third, -the sacrificial associations of the harvest and the resurrection -symbolised in the growing corn. I may remark in passing that it seems to -me very doubtful psychology to refer one living and single spirit to -three dead and disconnected causes, if they were merely dead and -disconnected causes. Suppose Mr. Wells, in one of his fascinating novels -of the future, were to tell us that there would arise among men a new -and as yet nameless passion, of which men will dream as they dream of -first love, for which they will die as they die for a flag and a -fatherland. I think we should be a little puzzled if he told us that -this singular sentiment would be a combination of the habit of smoking -Woodbines, the increase of the income tax and the pleasure of a motorist -in exceeding the speed limit. We could not easily imagine this, because -we could not imagine any connection between the three or any common -feeling that could include them all. Nor could any one imagine any -connection between corn and dreams and an old chief with a spear, unless -there was already a common feeling to include them all. But if there was -such a common feeling it could only be the religious feeling; and these -things could not be the beginnings of a religious feeling that existed -already. I think anybody’s common sense will tell him that it is far -more likely that this sort of mystical sentiment did exist already; and -that in the light of it dreams and kings and cornfields could appear -mystical then, as they can appear mystical now. - -For the plain truth is that all this is a trick of making things seem -distant and dehumanised, merely by pretending not to understand things -that we do understand. It is like saying that prehistoric men had an -ugly and uncouth habit of opening their mouths wide at intervals and -stuffing strange substances into them, as if we had never heard of -eating. It is like saying that the terrible Troglodytes of the Stone Age -lifted alternate legs in rotation, as if we had never heard of walking. -If it were meant to touch the mystical nerve and awaken us to the -wonder of walking and eating, it might be a legitimate fancy. As it is -here intended to kill the mystical nerve and deaden us to the wonder of -religion, it is irrational rubbish. It pretends to find something -incomprehensible in the feelings that we all comprehend. Who does _not_ -find dreams mysterious, and feel that they lie on the dark borderland of -being? Who does _not_ feel the death and resurrection of the growing -things of the earth as something near to the secret of the universe? Who -does _not_ understand that there must always be the savour of something -sacred about authority and the solidarity that is the soul of the tribe? -If there be any anthropologist who really finds these things remote and -impossible to realise, we can say nothing of that scientific gentleman -except that he has not got so large and enlightened a mind as a -primitive man. To me it seems obvious that nothing but a spiritual -sentiment already active could have clothed these separate and diverse -things with sanctity. To say that religion came _from_ reverencing a -chief or sacrificing at a harvest is to put a highly elaborate cart -before a really primitive horse. It is like saying that the impulse to -draw pictures came from the contemplation of the pictures of reindeers -in the cave. In other words, it is explaining painting by saying that it -arose out of the work of painters; or accounting for art by saying that -it arose out of art. It is even more like saying that the thing we call -poetry arose as the result of certain customs; such as that of an ode -being officially composed to celebrate the advent of spring; or that of -a young man rising at a regular hour to listen to the skylark and then -writing his report on a piece of paper. It is quite true that young men -often become poets in the spring; and it is quite true that when once -there are poets, no mortal power can restrain them from writing about -the skylark. But the poems did not exist before the poets. The poetry -did not arise out of the poetic forms. In other words, it is hardly an -adequate explanation of how a thing appeared for the first time to say -it existed already. Similarly, we cannot say that religion arose out of -the religious forms, because that is only another way of saying that it -only arose when it existed already. It needed a certain sort of mind to -see that there was anything mystical about the dreams or the dead, as it -needed a particular sort of mind to see that there was anything poetical -about the skylark or the spring. That mind was presumably what we call -the human mind, very much as it exists to this day; for mystics still -meditate upon death and dreams as poets still write about spring and -skylarks. But there is not the faintest hint to suggest that anything -short of the human mind we know feels any of these mystical associations -at all. A cow in a field seems to derive no lyrical impulse or -instruction from her unrivalled opportunities for listening to the -skylark. And similarly there is no reason to suppose that live sheep -will ever begin to use dead sheep as the basis of a system of elaborate -ancestor-worship. It is true that in the spring a young quadruped’s -fancy may lightly turn to thoughts of love, but no succession of springs -has ever led it to turn however lightly to thoughts of literature. And -in the same way, while it is true that a dog has dreams, while most -other quadrupeds do not seem even to have that, we have waited a long -time for the dog to develop his dreams into an elaborate system of -religious ceremonial. We have waited so long that we have really ceased -to expect it; and we no more look to see a dog apply his dreams to -ecclesiastical construction than to see him examine his dreams by the -rules of psycho-analysis. It is obvious, in short, that for some reason -or other these natural experiences, and even natural excitements, never -do pass the line that separates them from creative expression like art -and religion, in any creature except man. They never do, they never -have, and it is now to all appearance very improbable that they ever -will. It is not impossible, in the sense of self-contradictory, that we -should see cows fasting from grass every Friday or going on their knees -as in the old legend about Christmas Eve. It is not in that sense -impossible that cows should contemplate death until they can lift up a -sublime psalm of lamentation to the tune the old cow died of. It is not -in that sense impossible that they should express their hopes of a -heavenly career in a symbolical dance, in honour of the cow that jumped -over the moon. It may be that the dog will at last have laid in a -sufficient store of dreams to enable him to build a temple to Cerberus -as a sort of canine trinity. It may be that his dreams have already -begun to turn into visions capable of verbal expression, in some -revelation about the Dog Star as the spiritual home for lost dogs. These -things are logically possible, in the sense that it is logically -difficult to prove the universal negative which we call an -impossibility. But all that instinct for the probable, which we call -common sense, must long ago have told us that the animals are not to all -appearance evolving in that sense; and that, to say the least, we are -not likely to have any personal evidence of their passing from the -animal experience to the human experiments. But spring and death and -even dreams, considered merely as experiences, are their experiences as -much as ours. The only possible conclusion is that these experiences, -considered as experiences, do not generate anything like a religious -sense in any mind except a mind like ours. We come back to the fact of a -certain kind of mind as already alive and alone. It was unique and it -could make creeds as it could make cave-drawings. The materials for -religion had lain there for countless ages like the materials for -everything else; but the power of religion was in the mind. Man could -already see in these things the riddles and hints and hopes that he -still sees in them. He could not only dream but dream about dreams. He -could not only see the dead but see the shadow of death; and was -possessed with that mysterious mystification that for ever finds death -incredible. - -It is quite true that we have even these hints chiefly about man when he -unmistakably appears as man. We cannot affirm this or anything else -about the alleged animal originally connecting man and the brutes. But -that is only because he is not an animal but an allegation. We cannot be -certain that Pithecanthropus ever worshipped, because we cannot be -certain that he ever lived. He is only a vision called up to fill the -void that does in fact yawn between the first creatures who were -certainly men and any other creatures that are certainly apes or other -animals. A few very doubtful fragments are scraped together to suggest -such an intermediate creature because it is required by a certain -philosophy; but nobody supposes that these are sufficient to establish -anything philosophical even in support of that philosophy. A scrap of -skull found in Java cannot establish anything about religion or about -the absence of religion. If there ever was any such ape-man, he may have -exhibited as much ritual in religion as a man or as much simplicity in -religion as an ape. He may have been a mythologist or he may have been a -myth. It might be interesting to inquire whether this mystical quality -appeared in a transition from the ape to the man, if there were really -any types of the transition to inquire about. In other words, the -missing link might or might not be mystical if he were not missing. But -compared with the evidence we have of real human beings, we have no -evidence that he was a human being or a half-human being or a being at -all. Even the most extreme evolutionists do not attempt to deduce any -evolutionary views about the origin of religion from _him_. Even in -trying to prove that religion grew slowly from rude or irrational -sources, they begin their proof with the first men who were men. But -their own proof only proves that the men who were already men were -already mystics. They used the rude and irrational elements as only men -and mystics can use them. We come back once more to the simple truth; -that at some time too early for these critics to trace, a transition had -occurred to which bones and stones cannot in their nature bear witness; -and man became a living soul. - -Touching this matter of the origin of religion, the truth is that those -who are thus trying to explain it are trying to explain it away. -Subconsciously they feel that it looks less formidable when thus -lengthened out into a gradual and almost invisible process. But in fact -this perspective entirely falsifies the reality of experience. They -bring together two things that are totally different, the stray hints of -evolutionary origins and the solid and self-evident block of humanity, -and try to shift their standpoint till they see them in a single -foreshortened line. But it is an optical illusion. Men do not in fact -stand related to monkeys or missing links in any such chain as that in -which men stand related to men. There may have been intermediate -creatures whose faint traces can be found here and there in the huge -gap. Of these beings, if they ever existed, it may be true that they -were things very unlike men or men very unlike ourselves. But of -prehistoric men, such as those called the cave-men or the reindeer men, -it is not true in any sense whatever. Prehistoric men of that sort were -things exactly like men and men exceedingly like ourselves. They only -happened to be men about whom we do not know much, for the simple reason -that they have left no records or chronicles; but all that we do know -about them makes them just as human and ordinary as men in a medieval -manor or a Greek city. - -Looking from our human standpoint up the long perspective of humanity, -we simply recognise this thing as human. If we had to recognise it as -animal, we should have had to recognise it as abnormal. If we chose to -look through the other end of the telescope, as I have done more than -once in these speculations, if we chose to project the human figure -forward out of an unhuman world, we could only say that one of the -animals had obviously gone mad. But seeing the thing from the right end, -or rather from the inside, we know it is sanity; and we know that these -primitive men were sane. We hail a certain human freemasonry wherever we -see it, in savages, in foreigners or in historical characters. For -instance, all we can infer from primitive legend, and all we know of -barbaric life, supports a certain moral and even mystical idea of which -the commonest symbol is clothes. For clothes are very literally -vestments, and man wears them because he is a priest. It is true that -even as an animal he is here different from the animals. Nakedness is -not nature to him; it is not his life but rather his death; even in the -vulgar sense of his death of cold. But clothes are worn for dignity or -decency or decoration where they are not in any way wanted for warmth. -It would sometimes appear that they are valued for ornament before they -are valued for use. It would almost always appear that they are felt to -have some connection with decorum. Conventions of this sort vary a great -deal with various times and places; and there are some who cannot get -over this reflection, and for whom it seems a sufficient argument for -letting all conventions slide. They never tire of repeating, with simple -wonder, that dress is different in the Cannibal Islands and in Camden -Town; they cannot get any further and throw up the whole idea of decency -in despair. They might as well say that because there have been hats of -a good many different shapes, and some rather eccentric shapes, -therefore hats do not matter or do not exist. They would probably add -that there is no such thing as sunstroke or going bald. Men have felt -everywhere that certain forms were necessary to fence off and protect -certain private things from contempt or coarse misunderstanding; and the -keeping of those forms, whatever they were, made for dignity and mutual -respect. The fact that they mostly refer, more or less remotely, to the -relations of the sexes illustrates the two facts that must be put at the -very beginning of the record of the race. The first is the fact that -original sin is really original. Not merely in theology but in history -it is a thing rooted in the origins. Whatever else men have believed, -they have all believed that there is something the matter with mankind. -This sense of sin has made it impossible to be natural and have no -clothes, just as it has made it impossible to be natural and have no -laws. But above all it is to be found in that other fact, which is the -father and mother of all laws as it is itself founded on a father and -mother: the thing that is before all thrones and even all commonwealths. - -That fact is the family. Here again we must keep the enormous -proportions of a normal thing clear of various modifications and degrees -and doubts more or less reasonable, like clouds clinging about a -mountain. It may be that what we call the family had to fight its way -from or through various anarchies and aberrations; but it certainly -survived them and is quite as likely as not to have also preceded them. -As we shall see in the case of communism and nomadism, more formless -things could and did lie on the flank of societies that had taken a -fixed form; but there is nothing to show that the form did not exist -before the formlessness. What is vital is that form is more important -than formlessness; and that the material called mankind has taken this -form. For instance, of the rules revolving round sex, which were -recently mentioned, none is more curious than the savage custom commonly -called the _couvade_. That seems like a law out of topsyturvydom; by -which the father is treated as if he were the mother. In any case it -clearly involves the mystical sense of sex; but many have maintained -that it is really a symbolic act by which the father accepts the -responsibility of fatherhood. In that case that grotesque antic is -really a very solemn act; for it is the foundation of all we call the -family and all we know as human society. Some groping in these dark -beginnings have said that mankind was once under a matriarchy; I suppose -that under a matriarchy it would not be called mankind but womankind. -But others have conjectured that what is called matriarchy was simply -moral anarchy, in which the mother alone remained fixed because all the -fathers were fugitive and irresponsible. Then came the moment when the -man decided to guard and guide what he had created. So he became the -head of the family, not as a bully with a big club to beat women with, -but rather as a respectable person trying to be a responsible person. -Now all that might be perfectly true, and might even have been the first -family act, and it would still be true that man then for the first time -acted like a man, and therefore for the first time became fully a man. -But it might quite as well be true that the matriarchy or moral anarchy, -or whatever we call it, was only one of the hundred social dissolutions -or barbaric backslidings which may have occurred at intervals in -prehistoric as they certainly did in historic times. A symbol like the -_couvade_, if it was really such a symbol, may have commemorated the -suppression of a heresy rather than the first rise of a religion. We -cannot conclude with any certainty about these things, except in their -big results in the building of mankind, but we can say in what style the -bulk of it and the best of it is built. We can say that the family is -the unit of the state; that it is the cell that makes up the formation. -Round the family do indeed gather the sanctities that separate men from -ants and bees. Decency is the curtain of that tent; liberty is the wall -of that city; property is but the family farm; honour is but the family -flag. In the practical proportions of human history, we come back to -that fundamental of the father and the mother and the child. It has been -said already that if this story cannot start with religious assumptions, -it must none the less start with some moral or metaphysical assumptions, -or no sense can be made of the story of man. And this is a very good -instance of that alternative necessity. If we are not of those who begin -by invoking a divine Trinity, we must none the less invoke a human -Trinity; and see that triangle repeated everywhere in the pattern of the -world. For the highest event in history to which all history looks -forward and leads up, is only something that is at once the reversal and -the renewal of that triangle. Or rather it is the one triangle -superimposed so as to intersect the other, making a sacred pentacle of -which, in a mightier sense than that of the magicians, the fiends are -afraid. The old Trinity was of father and mother and child, and is -called the human family. The new is of child and mother and father, and -has the name of the Holy Family. It is in no way altered except in being -entirely reversed; just as the world which it transformed was not in the -least different, except in being turned upside-down. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -THE ANTIQUITY OF CIVILISATION - - -The modern man looking at the most ancient origins has been like a man -watching for daybreak in a strange land; and expecting to see that dawn -breaking behind bare uplands or solitary peaks. But that dawn is -breaking behind the black bulk of great cities long builded and lost for -us in the original night; colossal cities like the houses of giants, in -which even the carved ornamental animals are taller than the palm-trees; -in which the painted portrait can be twelve times the size of the man; -with tombs like mountains of man set four-square and pointing to the -stars; with winged and bearded bulls standing and staring enormous at -the gates of temples; standing still eternally as if a stamp would shake -the world. The dawn of history reveals a humanity already civilised. -Perhaps it reveals a civilisation already old. And among other more -important things, it reveals the folly of most of the generalisations -about the previous and unknown period when it was really young. The two -first human societies of which we have any reliable and detailed record -are Babylon and Egypt. It so happens that these two vast and splendid -achievements of the genius of the ancients bear witness against two of -the commonest and crudest assumptions of the culture of the moderns. If -we want to get rid of half the nonsense about nomads and cave-men and -the old man of the forest, we need only look steadily at the two solid -and stupendous facts called Egypt and Babylon. - -Of course most of these speculators who are talking about primitive men -are thinking about modern savages. They prove their progressive -evolution by assuming that a great part of the human race has not -progressed or evolved; or even changed in any way at all. I do not agree -with their theory of change; nor do I agree with their dogma of things -unchangeable. I may not believe that civilised man has had so rapid and -recent a progress; but I cannot quite understand why uncivilised man -should be so mystically immortal and immutable. A somewhat simpler mode -of thought and speech seems to me to be needed throughout this inquiry. -Modern savages cannot be exactly like primitive man, because they are -not primitive. Modern savages are not ancient because they are modern. -Something has happened to their race as much as to ours, during the -thousands of years of our existence and endurance on the earth. They -have had some experiences, and have presumably acted on them if not -profited by them, like the rest of us. They have had some environment, -and even some change of environment, and have presumably adapted -themselves to it in a proper and decorous evolutionary manner. This -would be true even if the experiences were mild or the environment -dreary; for there is an effect in mere time when it takes the moral form -of monotony. But it has appeared to a good many intelligent and -well-informed people quite as probable that the experience of the -savages has been that of a decline from civilisation. Most of those who -criticise this view do not seem to have any very clear notion of what a -decline from civilisation would be like. Heaven help them, it is likely -enough that they will soon find out. They seem to be content if cave-men -and cannibal islanders have some things in common, such as certain -particular implements. But it is obvious on the face of it that any -peoples reduced for any reason to a ruder life would have some things in -common. If we lost all our firearms we should make bows and arrows; but -we should not necessarily resemble in every way the first men who made -bows and arrows. It is said that the Russians in their great retreat -were so short of armament that they fought with clubs cut in the wood. -But a professor of the future would err in supposing that the Russian -Army of 1916 was a naked Scythian tribe that had never been out of the -wood. It is like saying that a man in his second childhood must exactly -copy his first. A baby is bald like an old man; but it would be an error -for one ignorant of infancy to infer that the baby had a long white -beard. Both a baby and an old man walk with difficulty; but he who shall -expect the old gentleman to lie on his back, and kick joyfully instead, -will be disappointed. - -It is therefore absurd to argue that the first pioneers of humanity must -have been identical with some of the last and most stagnant leavings of -it. There were almost certainly some things, there were probably many -things, in which the two were widely different or flatly contrary. An -example of the way in which this distinction works, and an example -essential to our argument here, is that of the nature and origin of -government. I have already alluded to Mr. H. G. Wells and the Old Man, -with whom he appears to be on such intimate terms. If we considered the -cold facts of prehistoric evidence for this portrait of the prehistoric -chief of the tribe, we could only excuse it by saying that its brilliant -and versatile author simply forgot for a moment that he was supposed to -be writing a history, and dreamed he was writing one of his own very -wonderful and imaginative romances. At least I cannot imagine how he can -possibly know that the prehistoric ruler was called the Old Man or that -court etiquette requires it to be spelt with capital letters. He says of -the same potentate, ‘No one was allowed to touch his spear or to sit in -his seat.’ I have difficulty in believing that anybody has dug up a -prehistoric spear with a prehistoric label, ‘Visitors are Requested not -to Touch,’ or a complete throne with the inscription, ‘Reserved for the -Old Man.’ But it may be presumed that the writer, who can hardly be -supposed to be merely making up things out of his own head, was merely -taking for granted this very dubious parallel between the prehistoric -and the decivilised man. It may be that in certain savage tribes the -chief is called the Old Man and nobody is allowed to touch his spear or -sit on his seat. It may be that in those cases he is surrounded with -superstitious and traditional terrors; and it may be that in those -cases, for all I know, he is despotic and tyrannical. But there is not a -grain of evidence that primitive government was despotic and tyrannical. -It may have been, of course, for it may have been anything or even -nothing; it may not have existed at all. But the despotism in certain -dingy and decayed tribes in the twentieth century does not prove that -the first men were ruled despotically. It does not even suggest it; it -does not even begin to hint at it. If there is one fact we really can -prove, from the history that we really do know, it is that despotism can -be a development, often a late development and very often indeed the end -of societies that have been highly democratic. A despotism may almost be -defined as a tired democracy. As fatigue falls on a community, the -citizens are less inclined for that eternal vigilance which has truly -been called the price of liberty; and they prefer to arm only one single -sentinel to watch the city while they sleep. It is also true that they -sometimes needed him for some sudden and militant act of reform; it is -equally true that he often took advantage of being the strong man armed -to be a tyrant like some of the Sultans of the East. But I cannot see -why the Sultan should have appeared any earlier in history than many -other human figures. On the contrary, the strong man armed obviously -depends upon the superiority of his armour; and armament of that sort -comes with more complex civilisation. One man may kill twenty with a -machine-gun; it is obviously less likely that he could do it with a -piece of flint. As for the current cant about the strongest man ruling -by force and fear, it is simply a nursery fairy-tale about a giant with -a hundred hands. Twenty men could hold down the strongest strong man in -any society, ancient or modern. Undoubtedly they might _admire_, in a -romantic and poetical sense, the man who was really the strongest; but -that is quite a different thing, and is as purely moral and even -mystical as the admiration for the purest or the wisest. But the spirit -that endures the mere cruelties and caprices of an established despot is -the spirit of an ancient and settled and probably stiffened society, not -the spirit of a new one. As his name implies, the Old Man is the ruler -of an old humanity. - -It is far more probable that a primitive society was something like a -pure democracy. To this day the comparatively simple agricultural -communities are by far the purest democracies. Democracy is a thing -which is always breaking down through the complexity of civilisation. -Any one who likes may state it by saying that democracy is the foe of -civilisation. But he must remember that some of us really prefer -democracy to civilisation, in the sense of preferring democracy to -complexity. Anyhow, peasants tilling patches of their own land in a -rough equality, and meeting to vote directly under a village tree, are -the most truly self-governing of men. It is surely as likely as not that -such a simple idea was found in the first condition of even simpler men. -Indeed the despotic vision is exaggerated, even if we do not regard the -men as men. Even on an evolutionary assumption of the most materialistic -sort, there is really no reason why men should not have had at least as -much camaraderie as rats or rooks. Leadership of some sort they -doubtless had, as have the gregarious animals; but leadership implies no -such irrational servility as that attributed to the superstitious -subjects of the Old Man. There was doubtless somebody corresponding, to -use Tennyson’s expression, to the many-wintered crow that leads the -clanging rookery home. But I fancy that if that venerable fowl began to -act after the fashion of some Sultans in ancient and decayed Asia, it -would become a very clanging rookery and the many-wintered crow would -not see many more winters. It may be remarked, in this connection, but -even among animals it would seem that something else is respected more -than bestial violence, if it be only the familiarity which in men is -called tradition or the experience which in men is called wisdom. I do -not know if crows really follow the oldest crow, but if they do they are -certainly not following the strongest crow. And I do know, in the human -case, that if some ritual of seniority keeps savages reverencing -somebody called the Old Man, then at least they have not our own servile -sentimental weakness for worshipping the Strong Man. - -It may be said then that primitive government, like primitive art and -religion and everything else, is very imperfectly known or rather -guessed at; but that it is at least as good a guess to suggest that it -was as popular as a Balkan or Pyrenean village as that it was as -capricious and secret as a Turkish divan. Both the mountain democracy -and the oriental palace are modern in the sense that they are still -there, or are some sort of growth of history; but of the two the palace -has much more the look of being an accumulation and a corruption, the -village much more the look of being a really unchanged and primitive -thing. But my suggestions at this point do not go beyond expressing a -wholesome doubt about the current assumption. I think it interesting, -for instance, that liberal institutions have been traced even by -moderns back to barbarian or undeveloped states, when it happened to be -convenient for the support of some race or nation or philosophy. So the -Socialists profess that their ideal of communal property existed in very -early times. So the Jews are proud of the Jubilees or juster -redistributions under their ancient law. So the Teutonists boasted of -tracing parliaments and juries and various popular things among the -Germanic tribes of the North. So the Celtophiles and those testifying to -the wrongs of Ireland have pleaded the more equal justice of the clan -system, to which the Irish chiefs bore witness before Strongbow. The -strength of the case varies in the different cases; but as there is some -case for all of them, I suspect there is some case for the general -proposition that popular institutions of some sort were by no means -uncommon in early and simple societies. Each of these separate schools -were making the admission to prove a particular modern thesis; but taken -together they suggest a more ancient and general truth, that there was -something more in prehistoric councils than ferocity and fear. Each of -these separate theorists had his own axe to grind, but he was willing to -use a stone axe; and he manages to suggest that the stone axe might have -been as republican as the guillotine. - -But the truth is that the curtain rises upon the play already in -progress. In one sense it is a true paradox that there was history -before history. But it is not the irrational paradox implied in -prehistoric history; for it is a history we do not know. Very probably -it was exceedingly like the history we do know, except in the one detail -that we do not know it. It is thus the very opposite of the pretentious -prehistoric history, which professes to trace everything in a consistent -course from the amoeba to the anthropoid and from the anthropoid to the -agnostic. So far from being a question of our knowing all about queer -creatures very different from ourselves, they were very probably people -very like ourselves, except that we know nothing about them. In other -words, our most ancient records only reach back to a time when humanity -had long been human, and even long been civilised. The most ancient -records we have not only mention but take for granted things like kings -and priests and princes and assemblies of the people; they describe -communities that are roughly recognisable as communities in our own -sense. Some of them are despotic; but we cannot tell that they have -always been despotic. Some of them may be already decadent, and nearly -all are mentioned as if they were old. We do not know what really -happened in the world before those records; but the little we do know -would leave us anything but astonished if we learnt that it was very -much like what happens in this world now. There would be nothing -inconsistent or confounding about the discovery that those unknown ages -were full of republics collapsing under monarchies and rising again as -republics, empires expanding and finding colonies and then losing -colonies, kingdoms combining again into world-states and breaking up -again into small nationalities, classes selling themselves into slavery -and marching out once more into liberty; all that procession of humanity -which may or may not be a progress but is most assuredly a romance. But -the first chapters of the romance have been torn out of the book; and we -shall never read them. - -It is so also with the more special fancy about evolution and social -stability. According to the real records available, barbarism and -civilisation were not successive stages in the progress of the world. -They were conditions that existed side by side, as they still exist side -by side. There were civilisations then as there are civilisations now; -there are savages now as there were savages then. It is suggested that -all men passed through a nomadic stage; but it is certain that there are -some who have never passed out of it, and it seems not unlikely that -there were some who never passed into it. It is probable that from very -primitive times the static tiller of the soil and the wandering shepherd -were two distinct types of men; and the chronological rearrangement of -them is but a mark of that mania for progressive stages that has largely -falsified history. It is suggested that there was a communist stage, in -which private property was everywhere unknown, a whole humanity living -on the negation of property; but the evidences of this negation are -themselves rather negative. Redistributions of property, jubilees, and -agrarian laws occur at various intervals and in various forms; but that -humanity inevitably passed through a communist stage seems as doubtful -as the parallel proposition that humanity will inevitably return to it. -It is chiefly interesting as evidence that the boldest plans for the -future invoke the authority of the past; and that even a revolutionary -seeks to satisfy himself that he is also a reactionary. There is an -amusing parallel example in the case of what is called feminism. In -spite of all the pseudo-scientific gossip about marriage by capture and -the cave-man beating the cave-woman with a club, it may be noted that as -soon as feminism became a fashionable cry, it was insisted that human -civilisation in its first stage had been a matriarchy. Apparently it was -the cave-woman who carried the club. Anyhow all these ideas are little -better than guesses; and they have a curious way of following the -fortune of modern theories and fads. In any case they are not history in -the sense of record; and we may repeat that when it comes to record, the -broad truth is that barbarism and civilisation have always dwelt side by -side in the world, the civilisation sometimes spreading to absorb the -barbarians, sometimes decaying into relative barbarism, and in almost -all cases possessing in a more finished form certain ideas and -institutions which the barbarians possess in a ruder form; such as -government or social authority, the arts and especially the decorative -arts, mysteries and taboos of various kinds especially surrounding the -matter of sex, and some form of that fundamental thing which is the -chief concern of this inquiry: the thing that we call religion. - -Now Egypt and Babylon, those two primeval monsters, might in this matter -have been specially provided as models. They might almost be called -working models to show how these modern theories do not work. The two -great truths we know about these two great cultures happen to contradict -flatly the two current fallacies which have just been considered. The -story of Egypt might have been invented to point the moral that man does -not necessarily begin with despotism because he is barbarous, but very -often finds his way to despotism because he is civilised. He finds it -because he is experienced; or, what is often much the same thing, -because he is exhausted. And the story of Babylon might have been -invented to point the moral that man need not be a nomad or a communist -before he becomes a peasant or a citizen; and that such cultures are not -always in successive stages but often in contemporary states. Even -touching these great civilisations with which our written history -begins, there is a temptation of course to be too ingenious or too -cocksure. We can read the bricks of Babylon in a very different sense -from that in which we guess about the Cup and Ring stones; and we do -definitely know what is meant by the animals in the Egyptian -hieroglyphic as we know nothing of the animals in the neolithic cave. -But even here the admirable archeologists who have deciphered line after -line of miles of hieroglyphics may be tempted to read too much between -the lines; even the real authority on Babylon may forget how fragmentary -is his hard-won knowledge; may forget that Babylon has only heaved half -a brick at him, though half a brick is better than no cuneiform. But -some truths, historic and not prehistoric, dogmatic and not -evolutionary, facts and not fancies, do indeed emerge from Egypt and -Babylon; and these two truths are among them. - -Egypt is a green ribbon along the river edging the dark red desolation -of the desert. It is a proverb, and one of vast antiquity, that it is -created by the mysterious bounty and almost sinister benevolence of the -Nile. When we first hear of Egyptians they are living as in a string of -river-side villages, in small and separate but co-operative communities -along the bank of the Nile. Where the river branched into the broad -Delta there was traditionally the beginning of a somewhat different -district or people; but this need not complicate the main truth. These -more or less independent though interdependent peoples were considerably -civilised already. They had a sort of heraldry; that is, decorative art -used for symbolic and social purposes; each sailing the Nile under its -own ensign representing some bird or animal. Heraldry involves two -things of enormous importance to normal humanity; the combination of the -two making that noble thing called co-operation; on which rest all -peasantries and peoples that are free. The art of heraldry means -independence; an image chosen by the imagination to express the -individuality. The science of heraldry means interdependence; an -agreement between different bodies to recognise different images; a -science of imagery. We have here therefore exactly that compromise of -co-operation between free families or groups which is the most normal -mode of life for humanity and is particularly apparent wherever men own -their own land and live on it. With the very mention of the images of -bird and beast the student of mythology will murmur the word ‘totem’ -almost in his sleep. But to my mind much of the trouble arises from his -habit of saying such words as if in his sleep. Throughout this rough -outline I have made a necessarily inadequate attempt to keep on the -inside rather than the outside of such things; to consider them where -possible in terms of thought and not merely in terms of terminology. -There is very little value in talking about totems unless we have some -feeling of what it really felt like to have a totem. Granted that they -had totems and we have no totems; was it because they had more fear of -animals or more familiarity with animals? Did a man whose totem was a -wolf feel like a were-wolf or like a man running away from a were-wolf? -Did he feel like Uncle Remus about Brer Wolf or like St. Francis about -his brother the wolf, or like Mowgli about his brothers the wolves? Was -a totem a thing like the British lion or a thing like the British -bulldog? Was the worship of a totem like the feeling of niggers about -Mumbo Jumbo, or of children about Jumbo? I have never read any book of -folk-lore, however learned, that gave me any light upon this question, -which I think by far the most important one. I will confine myself to -repeating that the earliest Egyptian communities had a common -understanding about the images that stood for their individual states; -and that this amount of communication is prehistoric in the sense that -it is already there at the beginning of history. But as history unfolds -itself, this question of communication is clearly the main question of -these riverside communities. With the need of communication comes the -need of a common government and the growing greatness and spreading -shadow of the king. The other binding force besides the king, and -perhaps older than the king, is the priesthood; and the priesthood has -presumably even more to do with these ritual symbols and signals by -which men can communicate. And here in Egypt arose probably the primary -and certainly the typical invention to which we owe all history, and the -whole difference between the historic and the prehistoric: the -archetypal script, the art of writing. - -The popular pictures of these primeval empires are not half so popular -as they might be. There is shed over them the shadow of an exaggerated -gloom, more than the normal and even healthy sadness of heathen men. It -is part of the same sort of secret pessimism that loves to make -primitive man a crawling creature, whose body is filth and whose soul is -fear. It comes of course from the fact that men are moved most by their -religion; especially when it is irreligion. For them anything primary -and elemental must be evil. But it is the curious consequence that while -we have been deluged with the wildest experiments in primitive romance, -they have all missed the real romance of being primitive. They have -described scenes that are wholly imaginary, in which the men of the -Stone Age are men of stone like walking statues; in which the Assyrians -or Egyptians are as stiff or as painted as their own most archaic art. -But none of these makers of imaginary scenes have tried to imagine what -it must really have been like to see those things as fresh which we see -as familiar. They have not seen a man discovering fire like a child -discovering fireworks. They have not seen a man playing with the -wonderful invention called the wheel, like a boy playing at putting up a -wireless station. They have never put the spirit of youth into their -descriptions of the youth of the world. It follows that amid all their -primitive or prehistoric fancies there are no jokes. There are not even -practical jokes, in connection with the practical inventions. And this -is very sharply defined in the particular case of hieroglyphics; for -there seems to be serious indication that the whole high human art of -scripture or writing began with a joke. - -There are some who will learn with regret that it seems to have begun -with a pun. The king or the priests or some responsible persons, wishing -to send a message up the river in that inconveniently long and narrow -territory, hit on the idea of sending it in picture-writing, like that -of the Red Indian. Like most people who have written picture-writing for -fun, he found the words did not always fit. But when the word for taxes -sounded rather like the word for pig, he boldly put down a pig as a bad -pun and chanced it. So a modern hieroglyphist might represent ‘at once’ -by unscrupulously drawing a hat followed by a series of upright -numerals. It was good enough for the Pharaohs and ought to be good -enough for him. But it must have been great fun to write or even to read -these messages, when writing and reading were really a new thing. And if -people must write romances about ancient Egypt (and it seems that -neither prayers nor tears nor curses can withhold them from the habit), -I suggest that scenes like this would really remind us that the ancient -Egyptians were human beings. I suggest that somebody should describe the -scene of the great monarch sitting among his priests, and all of them -roaring with laughter and bubbling over with suggestions as the royal -puns grew more and more wild and indefensible. There might be another -scene of almost equal excitement about the decoding of this cipher; the -guesses and clues and discoveries having all the popular thrill of a -detective story. That is how primitive romance and primitive history -really ought to be written. For whatever was the quality of the -religious or moral life of remote times, and it was probably much more -human than is conventionally supposed, the scientific interest of such a -time must have been intense. Words must have been more wonderful than -wireless telegraphy; and experiments with common things a series of -electric shocks. We are still waiting for somebody to write a lively -story of primitive life. The point is in some sense a parenthesis here; -but it is connected with the general matter of political development, by -the institution which is most active in these first and most fascinating -of all the fairy-tales of science. - -It is admitted that we owe most of this science to the priests. Modern -writers like Mr. Wells cannot be accused of any weakness of sympathy -with a pontifical hierarchy; but they agree at least in recognising what -pagan priesthoods did for the arts and sciences. Among the more ignorant -of the enlightened there was indeed a convention of saying that priests -had obstructed progress in all ages; and a politician once told me in a -debate that I was resisting modern reforms exactly as some ancient -priest probably resisted the discovery of wheels. I pointed out, in -reply, that it was far more likely that the ancient priest made the -discovery of the wheels. It is overwhelmingly probable that the ancient -priest had a great deal to do with the discovery of the art of writing. -It is obvious enough in the fact that the very word hieroglyphic is akin -to the word hierarchy. The religion of these priests was apparently a -more or less tangled polytheism of a type that is more particularly -described elsewhere. It passed through a period when it co-operated with -the king, another period when it was temporarily destroyed by the king, -who happened to be a prince with a private theism of his own, and a -third period when it practically destroyed the king and ruled in his -stead. But the world has to thank it for many things which it considers -common and necessary; and the creators of those common things ought -really to have a place among the heroes of humanity. If we were at rest -in a real paganism, instead of being restless in a rather irrational -reaction from Christianity, we might pay some sort of pagan honour to -these nameless makers of mankind. We might have veiled statues of the -man who first found fire or the man who first made a boat or the man who -first tamed a horse. And if we brought them garlands or sacrifices, -there would be more sense in it than in disfiguring our cities with -cockney statues of stale politicians and philanthropists. But one of -the strange marks of the strength of Christianity is that, since it -came, no pagan in our civilisation has been able to be really human. - -The point is here, however, that the Egyptian government, whether -pontifical or royal, found it more and more necessary to establish -communication; and there always went with communication a certain -element of coercion. It is not necessarily an indefensible thing that -the State grew more despotic as it grew more civilised; it is arguable -that it had to grow more despotic in order to grow more civilised. That -is the argument for autocracy in every age; and the interest lies in -seeing it illustrated in the earliest age. But it is emphatically not -true that it was most despotic in the earliest age and grew more liberal -in a later age; the practical process of history is exactly the reverse. -It is not true that the tribe began in the extreme of terror of the Old -Man and his seat and spear; it is probable, at least in Egypt, that the -Old Man was rather a New Man armed to attack new conditions. His spear -grew longer and longer and his throne rose higher and higher, as Egypt -rose into a complex and complete civilisation. That is what I mean by -saying that the history of the Egyptian territory is in this the history -of the earth; and directly denies the vulgar assumption that terrorism -can only come at the beginning and cannot come at the end. We do not -know what was the very first condition of the more or less feudal -amalgam of landowners, peasants, and slaves in the little commonwealths -beside the Nile; but it may have been a peasantry of an even more -popular sort. What we do know is that it was by experience and education -that little commonwealths lose their liberty; that absolute sovereignty -is something not merely ancient but rather relatively modern; and it is -at the end of the path called progress that men return to the king. - -Egypt exhibits, in that brief record of its remotest beginnings, the -primary problem of liberty and civilisation. It is the fact that men -actually lose variety by complexity. We have not solved the problem -properly any more than they did; but it vulgarises the human dignity of -the problem itself to suggest that even tyranny has no motive save in -tribal terror. And just as the Egyptian example refutes the fallacy -about despotism and civilisation, so does the Babylonian example refute -the fallacy about civilisation and barbarism. Babylon also we first hear -of when it is already civilised; for the simple reason that we cannot -hear of anything until it is educated enough to talk. It talks to us in -what is called cuneiform; that strange and stiff triangular symbolism -that contrasts with the picturesque alphabet of Egypt. However -relatively rigid Egyptian art may be, there is always something -different from the Babylonian spirit which was too rigid to have any -art. There is always a living grace in the lines of the lotus and -something of rapidity as well as rigidity in the movement of the arrows -and the birds. Perhaps there is something of the restrained but living -curve of the river, which makes us in talking of the serpent of old Nile -almost think of the Nile as a serpent. Babylon was a civilisation of -diagrams rather than of drawings. Mr. W. B. Yeats, who has a historical -imagination to match his mythological imagination (and indeed the former -is impossible without the latter), wrote truly of the men who watched -the stars ‘from their pedantic Babylon.’ The cuneiform was cut upon -bricks, of which all their architecture was built up; the bricks were of -baked mud, and perhaps the material had something in it forbidding the -sense of form to develop in sculpture or relief. Theirs was a static but -a scientific civilisation, far advanced in the machinery of life and in -some ways highly modern. It is said that they had much of the modern -cult of the higher spinsterhood and recognised an official class of -independent working women. There is perhaps something in that mighty -stronghold of hardened mud that suggests the utilitarian activity of a -huge hive. But though it was huge it was human; we see many of the same -social problems as in ancient Egypt or modern England; and whatever its -evils this also was one of the earliest masterpieces of man. It stood, -of course, in the triangle formed by the almost legendary rivers of -Tigris and Euphrates, and the vast agriculture of its empire, on which -its towns depended, was perfected by a highly scientific system of -canals. It had by tradition a high intellectual life, though rather -philosophic than artistic; and there preside over its primal foundation -those figures who have come to stand for the star-gazing wisdom of -antiquity; the teachers of Abraham; the Chaldees. - -Against this solid society, as against some vast bare wall of brick, -there surged age after age the nameless armies of the Nomads. They came -out of the deserts where the nomadic life had been lived from the -beginning and where it is still lived to-day. It is needless to dwell on -the nature of that life; it was obvious enough and even easy enough to -follow a herd or a flock which generally found its own grazing-ground -and to live on the milk or meat it provided. Nor is there any reason to -doubt that this habit of life could give almost every human thing except -a home. Many such shepherds or herdsmen may have talked in the earliest -times of all the truths and enigmas of the Book of Job; and of these -were Abraham and his children, who have given to the modern world for an -endless enigma the almost monomaniac monotheism of the Jews. But they -were a wild people without comprehension of complex social organisation; -and a spirit like the wind within them made them wage war on it again -and again. The history of Babylonia is largely the history of its -defence against the desert hordes; who came on at intervals of a century -or two and generally retreated as they came. Some say that an admixture -of nomad invasion built at Nineveh the arrogant kingdom of the -Assyrians, who carved great monsters upon their temples, bearded bulls -with wings like cherubim, and who sent forth many military conquerors -who stamped the world as if with such colossal hooves. Assyria was an -imperial interlude; but it was an interlude. The main story of all that -land is the war between the wandering peoples and the state that was -truly static. Presumably in prehistoric times, and certainly in historic -times, those wanderers went westward to waste whatever they could find. -The last time they came they found Babylon vanished; but that was in -historic times and the name of their leader was Mahomet. - -Now it is worth while to pause upon that story because, as has been -suggested, it directly contradicts the impression still current that -nomadism is merely a prehistoric thing and social settlement a -comparatively recent thing. There is nothing to show that the -Babylonians had ever wandered; there is very little to show that the -tribes of the desert ever settled down. Indeed it is probable that this -notion of a nomadic stage followed by a static stage has already been -abandoned by the sincere and genuine scholars to whose researches we all -owe so much. But I am not at issue in this book with sincere and genuine -scholars, but with a vast and vague public opinion which has been -prematurely spread from certain imperfect investigations, and which has -made fashionable a false notion of the whole history of humanity. It is -the whole vague notion that a monkey evolved into a man and in the same -way a barbarian evolved into a civilised man, and therefore at every -stage we have to look back to barbarism and forward to civilisation. -Unfortunately this notion is in a double sense entirely in the air. It -is an atmosphere in which men live rather than a thesis which they -defend. Men in that mood are more easily answered by objects than by -theories; and it will be well if any one tempted to make that -assumption, in some trivial turn of talk or writing, can be checked for -a moment by shutting his eyes and seeing for an instant, vast and -vaguely crowded, like a populous precipice, the wonder of the Babylonian -wall. - -One fact does certainly fall across us like its shadow. Our glimpses of -both these early empires show that the first domestic relation had been -complicated by something which was less human, but was often regarded as -equally domestic. The dark giant called Slavery had been called up like -a genii and was labouring on gigantic works of brick and stone. Here -again we must not too easily assume that what was backward was barbaric; -in the matter of manumission the earlier servitude seems in some ways -more liberal than the later; perhaps more liberal than the servitude of -the future. To insure food for humanity by forcing part of it to work -was after all a very human expedient; which is why it will probably be -tried again. But in one sense there is a significance in the old -slavery. It stands for one fundamental fact about all antiquity before -Christ; something to be assumed from first to last. It is the -insignificance of the individual before the State. It was as true of the -most democratic City State in Hellas as of any despotism in Babylon. It -is one of the signs of this spirit that a whole class of individuals -could be insignificant or even invisible. It must be normal because it -was needed for what would now be called ‘social service.’ Somebody said, -‘The Man is nothing and the Work is all,’ meaning it for a breezy -Carlylean commonplace. It was the sinister motto of the heathen Servile -State. In that sense there is truth in the traditional vision of vast -pillars and pyramids going up under those everlasting skies for ever, by -the labour of numberless and nameless men, toiling like ants and dying -like flies, wiped out by the work of their own hands. - -But there are two other reasons for beginning with the two fixed points -of Egypt and Babylon. For one thing they are fixed in tradition as the -types of antiquity; and history without tradition is dead. Babylon is -still the burden of a nursery rhyme, and Egypt (with its enormous -population of princesses awaiting reincarnation) is still the topic of -an unnecessary number of novels. But a tradition is generally a truth; -so long as the tradition is sufficiently popular; even if it is almost -vulgar. And there is a significance in this Babylonian and Egyptian -element in nursery rhymes and novels; even the newspapers, normally so -much behind the times, have already got as far as the reign of -Tutankhamen. The first reason is full of the common sense of popular -legend; it is the simple fact that we do know more of these traditional -things than of other contemporary things; and that we always did. All -travellers from Herodotus to Lord Carnarvon follow this route. -Scientific speculations of to-day do indeed spread out a map of the -whole primitive world, with streams of racial emigration or admixture -marked in dotted lines everywhere; over spaces which the unscientific -medieval map-maker would have been content to call ‘terra incognita,’ if -he did not fill the inviting blank with a picture of a dragon, to -indicate the probable reception given to pilgrims. But these -speculations are only speculations at the best; and at the worst the -dotted lines can be far more fabulous than the dragon. - -There is unfortunately one fallacy here into which it is very easy for -men to fall, even those who are most intelligent and perhaps especially -those who are most imaginative. It is the fallacy of supposing that -because an idea is greater in the sense of larger, therefore it is -greater in the sense of more fundamental and fixed and certain. If a man -lives alone in a straw hut in the middle of Thibet, he may be told that -he is living in the Chinese Empire; and the Chinese Empire is certainly -a splendid and spacious and impressive thing. Or alternatively he may be -told that he is living in the British Empire, and be duly impressed. But -the curious thing is that in certain mental states he can feel much more -certain about the Chinese Empire that he cannot see than about the straw -hut that he can see. He has some strange magical juggle in his mind, by -which his argument begins with the empire though his experience begins -with the hut. Sometimes he goes mad and appears to be proving that a -straw hut cannot exist in the domains of the Dragon Throne; that it is -impossible for such a civilisation as he enjoys to contain such a hovel -as he inhabits. But his insanity arises from the intellectual slip of -supposing that because China is a large and all-embracing hypothesis, -therefore it is something more than a hypothesis. Now modern people are -perpetually arguing in this way; and they extend it to things much less -real and certain than the Chinese Empire. They seem to forget, for -instance, that a man is not even certain of the Solar System as he is -certain of the South Downs. The Solar System is a deduction, and -doubtless a true deduction; but the point is that it is a very vast and -far-reaching deduction, and therefore he forgets that it is a deduction -at all and treats it as a first principle. He _might_ discover that the -whole calculation is a miscalculation; and the sun and stars and street -lamps would look exactly the same. But he has forgotten that it is a -calculation, and is almost ready to contradict the sun if it does not -fit into the Solar System. If this is a fallacy even in the case of -facts pretty well ascertained, such as the Solar System and the Chinese -Empire, it is an even more devastating fallacy in connection with -theories and other things that are not really ascertained at all. Thus -history, especially prehistoric history, has a horrible habit of -beginning with certain generalisations about races. I will not describe -the disorder and misery this inversion has produced in modern politics. -Because the race is vaguely supposed to have produced the nation, men -talk as if the nation were something vaguer than the race. Because they -have themselves invented a reason to explain a result, they almost deny -the result in order to justify the reason. They first treat a Celt as an -axiom and then treat an Irishman as an inference. And then they are -surprised that a great fighting, roaring Irishman is angry at being -treated as an inference. They cannot see that the Irish are Irish -whether or no they are Celtic, whether or no there ever were any Celts. -And what misleads them once more is the _size_ of the theory; the sense -that the fancy is bigger than the fact. A great scattered Celtic race is -supposed to contain the Irish, so of course the Irish must depend for -their very existence upon it. The same confusion, of course, has -eliminated the English and the Germans by swamping them in the Teutonic -race; and some tried to prove from the races being at one that the -nations could not be at war. But I only give these vulgar and hackneyed -examples in passing, as more familiar examples of the fallacy; the -matter at issue here is not its application to these modern things but -rather to the most ancient things. But the more remote and unrecorded -was the racial problem, the more fixed was this curious inverted -certainty in the Victorian man of science. To this day it gives a man of -those scientific traditions the same sort of shock to question these -things, which were only the last inferences when he turned them into -first principles. He is still more certain that he is an Aryan even than -that he is an Anglo-Saxon, just as he is more certain that he is an -Anglo-Saxon than that he is an Englishman. He has never really -discovered that he is a European. But he has never doubted that he is an -Indo-European. These Victorian theories have shifted a great deal in -their shape and scope; but this habit of a rapid hardening of a -hypothesis into a theory, and of a theory into an assumption, has hardly -yet gone out of fashion. People cannot easily get rid of the mental -confusion of feeling that the foundations of history must surely be -secure; that the first steps must be safe; that the biggest -generalisation must be obvious. But though the contradiction may seem to -them a paradox, this is the very contrary of the truth. It is the large -thing that is secret and invisible; it is the small thing that is -evident and enormous. - -Every race on the face of the earth has been the subject of these -speculations, and it is impossible even to suggest an outline of the -subject. But if we take the European race alone, its history, or rather -its prehistory, has undergone many retrospective revolutions in the -short period of my own lifetime. It used to be called the Caucasian -race; and I read in childhood an account of its collision with the -Mongolian race; it was written by Bret Harte and opened with the query, -‘Or is the Caucasian played out?’ Apparently the Caucasian was played -out, for in a very short time he had been turned into the Indo-European -man; sometimes, I regret to say, proudly presented as the Indo-Germanic -man. It seems that the Hindu and the German have similar words for -mother or father; there were other similarities between Sanskrit and -various Western tongues; and with that all superficial differences -between a Hindu and a German seemed suddenly to disappear. Generally -this composite person was more conveniently described as the Aryan, and -the really important point was that he had marched westward out of those -high lands of India where fragments of his language could still be -found. When I read this as a child, I had the fancy that after all the -Aryan need not have marched westward and left his language behind him; -he might also have marched eastward and taken his language with him. If -I were to read it now, I should content myself with confessing my -ignorance of the whole matter. But as a matter of fact I have great -difficulty in reading it now, because it is not being written now. It -looks as if the Aryan is also played out. Anyhow he has not merely -changed his name but changed his address; his starting-place and his -route of travel. One new theory maintains that our race did not come to -its present home from the East but from the South. Some say the -Europeans did not come from Asia but from Africa. Some have even had the -wild idea that the Europeans came from Europe; or rather that they never -left it. - -Then there is a certain amount of evidence of a more or less prehistoric -pressure from the North, such as that which seems to have brought the -Greeks to inherit the Cretan culture and so often brought the Gauls over -the hills into the fields of Italy. But I merely mention this example of -European ethnology to point out that the learned have pretty well boxed -the compass by this time; and that I, who am not one of the learned, -cannot pretend for a moment to decide where such doctors disagree. But I -can use my own common sense, and I sometimes fancy that theirs is a -little rusty from want of use. The first act of common sense is to -recognise the difference between a cloud and a mountain. And I will -affirm that nobody knows any of these things, in the sense that we all -know of the existence of the Pyramids of Egypt. - -The truth, it may be repeated, is that what we really see, as distinct -from what we may reasonably guess, in this earliest phase of history is -darkness covering the earth and great darkness the peoples, with a light -or two gleaming here and there on chance patches of humanity; and that -two of these flames do burn upon two of these tall primeval towns; upon -the high terraces of Babylon and the huge pyramids of the Nile. There -are indeed other ancient lights, or lights that may be conjectured to be -very ancient, in very remote parts of that vast wilderness of night. -Far away to the East there is a high civilisation of vast antiquity in -China; there are the remains of civilisations in Mexico and South -America and other places, some of them apparently so high in -civilisation as to have reached the most refined forms of devil-worship. -But the difference lies in the element of tradition; the tradition of -these lost cultures has been broken off, and though the tradition of -China still lives, it is doubtful whether we know anything about it. -Moreover, a man trying to measure the Chinese antiquity has to use -Chinese traditions of measurement; and he has a strange sensation of -having passed into another world under other laws of time and space. -Time is telescoped outwards, and centuries assume the slow and stiff -movement of aeons; the white man trying to see it as the yellow man -sees, feels as if his head were turning round and wonders wildly whether -it is growing a pigtail. Anyhow he cannot take in a scientific sense -that queer perspective that leads up to the primeval pagoda of the first -of the Sons of Heaven. He is in the real antipodes; the only true -alternative world to Christendom; and he is after a fashion walking -upside down. I have spoken of the medieval map-maker and his dragon; but -what medieval traveller, however much interested in monsters, would -expect to find a country where a dragon is a benevolent and amiable -being? Of the more serious side of Chinese tradition something will be -said in another connection; but here I am only talking of tradition and -the test of antiquity. And I only mention China as an antiquity that is -not for us reached by a bridge of tradition; and Babylon and Egypt as -antiquities that are. Herodotus is a human being, in a sense in which a -Chinaman in a billycock hat, sitting opposite to us in a London -tea-shop, is hardly human. We feel as if we knew what David and Isaiah -felt like, in a way in which we never were quite certain what Li Hung -Chang felt like. The very sins that snatched away Helen or Bathsheba -have passed into a proverb of private human weakness, of pathos and even -of pardon. The very virtues of the Chinaman have about them something -terrifying. This is the difference made by the destruction or -preservation of a continuous historical inheritance; as from ancient -Egypt to modern Europe. But when we ask what was that world that we -inherit, and why those particular people and places seem to belong to -it, we are led to the central fact of civilised history. - -That centre was the Mediterranean; which was not so much a piece of -water as a world. But it was a world with something of the character of -such a water; for it became more and more a place of unification in -which the streams of strange and very diverse cultures met. The Nile and -the Tiber alike flow into the Mediterranean; so did the Egyptian and the -Etrurian alike contribute to a Mediterranean civilisation. The glamour -of the great sea spread indeed very far inland, and the unity was felt -among the Arabs alone in the deserts and the Gauls beyond the northern -hills. But the gradual building up of a common culture running round all -the coasts of this inner sea is the main business of antiquity. As will -be seen, it was sometimes a bad business as well as a good business. In -that _orbis terrarum_ or circle of lands there were the extremes of evil -and of piety, there were contrasted races and still more contrasted -religions. It was the scene of an endless struggle between Asia and -Europe from the flight of the Persian ships at Salamis to the flight of -the Turkish ships at Lepanto. It was the scene, as will be more -especially suggested later, of a supreme spiritual struggle between the -two types of paganism, confronting each other in the Latin and the -Phoenician cities; in the Roman forum and the Punic mart. It was the -world of war and peace, the world of good and evil, the world of all -that matters most; with all respect to the Aztecs and the Mongols of -the Far East, they did not matter as the Mediterranean tradition -mattered and still matters. Between it and the Far East there were, of -course, interesting cults and conquests of various kinds, more or less -in touch with it, and in proportion as they were so intelligible also to -us. The Persians came riding in to make an end of Babylon; and we are -told in a Greek story how these barbarians learned to draw the bow and -tell the truth. Alexander the great Greek marched with his Macedonians -into the sunrise, and brought back strange birds coloured like the -sunrise clouds and strange flowers and jewels from the gardens and -treasuries of nameless kings. Islam went eastward into that world and -made it partly imaginable to us; precisely because Islam itself was born -in that circle of lands that fringed our own ancient and ancestral sea. -In the Middle Ages the empire of the Moguls increased its majesty -without losing its mystery; the Tartars conquered China and the Chinese -apparently took very little notice of them. All these things are -interesting in themselves; but it is impossible to shift the centre of -gravity to the inland spaces of Asia from the inland sea of Europe. When -all is said, if there were nothing in the world but what was said and -done and written and built in the lands lying round the Mediterranean, -it would still be in all the most vital and valuable things the world in -which we live. When that southern culture spread to the north-west it -produced many very wonderful things; of which doubtless we ourselves are -the most wonderful. When it spread thence to colonies and new countries, -it was still the same culture so long as it was culture at all. But -round that little sea like a lake were the things themselves, apart from -all extensions and echoes and commentaries on the things; the Republic -and the Church; the Bible and the heroic epics; Islam and Israel and the -memories of the lost empires; Aristotle and the measure of all things. -It is because the first light upon _this_ world is really light, the -daylight in which we are still walking to-day, and not merely the -doubtful visitation of strange stars, that I have begun here with noting -where that light first falls on the towered cities of the eastern -Mediterranean. - -But though Babylon and Egypt have thus a sort of first claim, in the -very fact of being familiar and traditional, fascinating riddles to us -but also fascinating riddles to our fathers, we must not imagine that -they were the only old civilisations on the southern sea; or that all -the civilisation was merely Sumerian or Semitic or Coptic, still less -merely Asiatic or African. Real research is more and more exalting the -ancient civilisation of Europe and especially of what we may still -vaguely call the Greeks. It must be understood in the sense that there -were Greeks before the Greeks, as in so many of their mythologies there -were gods before the gods. The island of Crete was the centre of the -civilisation now called Minoan, after the Minos who lingered in ancient -legend and whose labyrinth was actually discovered by modern archeology. -This elaborate European society, with its harbours and its drainage and -its domestic machinery, seems to have gone down before some invasion of -its northern neighbours, who made or inherited the Hellas we know in -history. But that earlier period did not pass till it had given to the -world gifts so great that the world has ever since been striving in vain -to repay them, if only by plagiarism. - -Somewhere along the Ionian coast opposite Crete and the islands was a -town of some sort, probably of the sort that we should call a village or -hamlet with a wall. It was called Ilion but it came to be called Troy, -and the name will never perish from the earth. A poet who may have been -a beggar and a balladmonger, who may have been unable to read and write, -and was described by tradition as blind, composed a poem about the -Greeks going to war with this town to recover the most beautiful woman -in the world. That the most beautiful woman in the world lived in that -one little town sounds like a legend; that the most beautiful poem in -the world was written by somebody who knew of nothing larger than such -little towns is a historical fact. It is said that the poem came at the -end of the period; that the primitive culture brought it forth in its -decay; in which case one would like to have seen that culture in its -prime. But anyhow it is true that this, which is our first poem, might -very well be our last poem too. It might well be the last word as well -as the first word spoken by man about his mortal lot, as seen by merely -mortal vision. If the world becomes pagan and perishes, the last man -left alive would do well to quote the Iliad and die. - -But in this one great human revelation of antiquity there is another -element of great historical importance; which has hardly I think been -given its proper place in history. The poet has so conceived the poem -that his sympathies apparently, and those of his reader certainly, are -on the side of the vanquished rather than of the victor. And this is a -sentiment which increases in the poetical tradition even as the poetical -origin itself recedes. Achilles had some status as a sort of demigod in -pagan times; but he disappears altogether in later times. But Hector -grows greater as the ages pass; and it is his name that is the name of a -Knight of the Round Table and his sword that legend puts into the hand -of Roland, laying about him with the weapon of the defeated Hector in -the last ruin and splendour of his own defeat. The name anticipates all -the defeats through which our race and religion were to pass; that -survival of a hundred defeats that is its triumph. - -The tale of the end of Troy shall have no ending; for it is lifted up -for ever into living echoes, immortal as our hopelessness and our hope. -Troy standing was a small thing that may have stood nameless for ages. -But Troy falling has been caught up in a flame and suspended in an -immortal instant of annihilation; and because it was destroyed with fire -the fire shall never be destroyed. And as with the city so with the -hero; traced in archaic lines in that primeval twilight is found the -first figure of the Knight. There is a prophetic coincidence in his -title; we have spoken of the word chivalry and how it seems to mingle -the horseman with the horse. It is almost anticipated ages before in the -thunder of the Homeric hexameter, and that long leaping word with which -the Iliad ends. It is that very unity for which we can find no name but -the holy centaur of chivalry. But there are other reasons for giving in -this glimpse of antiquity the flame upon the sacred town. The sanctity -of such towns ran like a fire round the coasts and islands of the -northern Mediterranean; the high-fenced hamlet for which heroes died. -From the smallness of the city came the greatness of the citizen. Hellas -with her hundred statues produced nothing statelier than that walking -statue; the ideal of the self-commanding man. Hellas of the hundred -statues was one legend and literature; and all that labyrinth of little -walled nations resounded with the lament of Troy. - -A later legend, an afterthought but not an accident, said that -stragglers from Troy founded a republic on the Italian shore. It was -true in spirit that republican virtue had such a root. A mystery of -honour, that was not born of Babylon or the Egyptian pride, there shone -like the shield of Hector, defying Asia and Africa; till the light of a -new day was loosened, with the rushing of the eagles and the coming of -the name; the name that came like a thunderclap, when the world woke to -Rome. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -GOD AND COMPARATIVE RELIGION - - -I was once escorted over the Roman foundations of an ancient British -city by a professor, who said something that seems to me a satire on a -good many other professors. Possibly the professor saw the joke, though -he maintained an iron gravity, and may or may not have realised that it -was a joke against a great deal of what is called comparative religion. -I pointed out a sculpture of the head of the sun with the usual halo of -rays, but with the difference that the face in the disc, instead of -being boyish like Apollo, was bearded like Neptune or Jupiter. ‘Yes,’ he -said with a certain delicate exactitude, ‘that is supposed to represent -the local god Sul. The best authorities identify Sul with Minerva; but -this has been held to show that the identification is not complete.’ - -That is what we call a powerful understatement. The modern world is -madder than any satires on it; long ago Mr. Belloc made his burlesque -don say that a bust of Ariadne had been proved by modern research to be -a Silenus. But that is not better than the real appearance of Minerva as -the Bearded Woman of Mr. Barnum. Only both of them are very like many -identifications by ‘the best authorities’ on comparative religion; and -when Catholic creeds are identified with various wild myths, I do not -laugh or curse or misbehave myself; I confine myself decorously to -saying that the identification is not complete. - -In the days of my youth the Religion of Humanity was a term commonly -applied to Comtism, the theory of certain rationalists who worshipped -corporate mankind as a Supreme Being. Even in the days of my youth I -remarked that there was something slightly odd about despising and -dismissing the doctrine of the Trinity as a mystical and even maniacal -contradiction; and then asking us to adore a deity who is a hundred -million persons in one God, neither confounding the persons nor dividing -the substance. - -But there is another entity, more or less definable and much more -imaginable than the many-headed and monstrous idol of mankind. And it -has a much better right to be called, in a reasonable sense, the -religion of humanity. Man is not indeed the idol; but man is almost -everywhere the idolator. And these multitudinous idolatries of mankind -have something about them in many ways more human and sympathetic than -modern metaphysical abstractions. If an Asiatic god has three heads and -seven arms, there is at least in it an idea of material incarnation -bringing an unknown power nearer to us and not farther away. But if our -friends Brown, Jones, and Robinson, when out for a Sunday walk, were -transformed and amalgamated into an Asiatic idol before our eyes, they -would surely seem farther away. If the arms of Brown and the legs of -Robinson waved from the same composite body, they would seem to be -waving something of a sad farewell. If the heads of all three gentlemen -appeared smiling on the same neck, we should hesitate even by what name -to address our new and somewhat abnormal friend. In the many-headed and -many-handed Oriental idol there is a certain sense of mysteries becoming -at least partly intelligible; of formless forces of nature taking some -dark but material form, but though this may be true of the multiform god -it is not so of the multiform man. The human beings become less human by -becoming less separate; we might say less human in being less lonely. -The human beings become less intelligible as they become less isolated; -we might say with strict truth that the closer they are to us the -farther they are away. An Ethical Hymn-book of this humanitarian sort of -religion was carefully selected and expurgated on the principle of -preserving anything human and eliminating anything divine. One -consequence was that a hymn appeared in the amended form of ‘Nearer -Mankind to Thee, Nearer to Thee.’ It always suggested to me the -sensations of a strap-hanger during a crush on the Tube. But it is -strange and wonderful how far away the souls of men can seem, when their -bodies are so near as all that. - -The human unity with which I deal here is not to be confounded with this -modern industrial monotony and herding, which is rather a congestion -than a communion. It is a thing to which human groups left to -themselves, and even human individuals left to themselves, have -everywhere tended by an instinct that may truly be called human. Like -all healthy human things, it has varied very much within the limits of a -general character; for that is characteristic of everything belonging to -that ancient land of liberty that lies before and around the servile -industrial town. Industrialism actually boasts that its products are all -of one pattern; that men in Jamaica or Japan can break the same seal and -drink the same bad whisky, that a man at the North Pole and another at -the South might recognise the same optimistic label on the same dubious -tinned salmon. But wine, the gift of gods to men, can vary with every -valley and every vineyard, can turn into a hundred wines without any -wine once reminding us of whisky; and cheeses can change from county to -county without forgetting the difference between chalk and cheese. When -I am speaking of this thing, therefore, I am speaking of something that -doubtless includes very wide differences; nevertheless I will here -maintain that it is one thing. I will maintain that most of the modern -botheration comes from not realising that it is really one thing. I will -advance the thesis that before all talk about comparative religion and -the separate religious founders of the world, the first essential is to -recognise this thing as a whole, as a thing almost native and normal to -the great fellowship that we call mankind. This thing is Paganism; and I -propose to show in these pages that it is the one real rival to the -Church of Christ. - -Comparative religion is very comparative indeed. That is, it is so much -a matter of degree and distance and difference that it is only -comparatively successful when it tries to compare. When we come to look -at it closely we find it comparing things that are really quite -incomparable. We are accustomed to see a table or catalogue of the -world’s great religions in parallel columns, until we fancy they are -really parallel. We are accustomed to see the names of the great -religious founders all in a row: Christ; Mahomet; Buddha; Confucius. But -in truth this is only a trick; another of these optical illusions by -which any objects may be put into a particular relation by shifting to a -particular point of sight. Those religions and religious founders, or -rather those whom we choose to lump together as religions and religious -founders, do not really show any common character. The illusion is -partly produced by Islam coming immediately after Christianity in the -list; as Islam did come after Christianity and was largely an imitation -of Christianity. But the other eastern religions, or what we call -religions, not only do not resemble the Church but do not resemble each -other. When we come to Confucianism at the end of the list, we come to -something in a totally different world of thought. To compare the -Christian and Confucian religions is like comparing a theist with an -English squire or asking whether a man is a believer in immortality or a -hundred-per-cent American. Confucianism may be a civilisation but it is -not a religion. - -In truth the Church is too unique to prove herself unique. For most -popular and easy proof is by parallel; and here there is no parallel. It -is not easy, therefore, to expose the fallacy by which a false -classification is created to swamp a unique thing, when it really is a -unique thing. As there is nowhere else exactly the same fact, so there -is nowhere else exactly the same fallacy. But I will take the nearest -thing I can find to such a solitary social phenomenon, in order to show -how it is thus swamped and assimilated. I imagine most of us would agree -that there is something unusual and unique about the position of the -Jews. There is nothing that is quite in the same sense an international -nation; an ancient culture scattered in different countries but still -distinct and indestructible. Now this business is like an attempt to -make a list of nomadic nations in order to soften the strange solitude -of the Jew. It would be easy enough to do it, by the same process of -putting a plausible approximation first, and then tailing off into -totally different things thrown in somehow to make up the list. Thus in -the new list of nomadic nations the Jews would be followed by the -Gypsies; who at least are really nomadic if they are not really -national. Then the professor of the new science of Comparative Nomadics -could pass easily on to something different; even if it was very -different. He could remark on the wandering adventure of the English who -had scattered their colonies over so many seas; and call _them_ nomads. -It is quite true that a great many Englishmen seem to be strangely -restless in England. It is quite true that not all of them have left -their country for their country’s good. The moment we mention the -wandering empire of the English, we must add the strange exiled empire -of the Irish. For it is a curious fact, to be noted in our imperial -literature, that the same ubiquity and unrest which is a proof of -English enterprise and triumph is a proof of Irish futility and failure. -Then the professor of Nomadism would look round thoughtfully and -remember that there was great talk recently of German waiters, German -barbers, German clerks, Germans naturalising themselves in England and -the United States and the South American republics. The Germans would go -down as the fifth nomadic race; the words Wanderlust and Folk-Wandering -would come in very useful here. For there really have been historians -who explained the Crusades by suggesting that the Germans were found -wandering (as the police say) in what happened to be the neighbourhood -of Palestine. Then the professor, feeling he was now near the end, would -make a last leap in desperation. He would recall the fact that the -French Army has captured nearly every capital in Europe, that it marched -across countless conquered lands under Charlemagne or Napoleon; and -_that_ would be wanderlust, and _that_ would be the note of a nomadic -race. Thus he would have his six nomadic nations all compact and -complete, and would feel that the Jew was no longer a sort of mysterious -and even mystical exception. But people with more common sense would -probably realise that he had only extended nomadism by extending the -meaning of nomadism; and that he had extended that until it really had -no meaning at all. It is quite true that the French soldier has made -some of the finest marches in all military history. But it is equally -true, and far more self-evident, that if the French peasant is not a -rooted reality there is no such thing as a rooted reality in the world; -or in other words, if he is a nomad there is nobody who is not a nomad. - -Now that is the sort of trick that has been tried in the case of -comparative religion and the world’s religious founders all standing -respectably in a row. It seeks to classify Jesus as the other would -classify Jews, by inventing a new class for the purpose and filling up -the rest of it with stop-gaps and second-rate copies. I do not mean that -these other things are not often great things in their own real -character and class. Confucianism and Buddhism are great things, but it -is not true to call them Churches; just as the French and English are -great peoples, but it is nonsense to call them nomads. There are some -points of resemblance between Christendom and its imitation in Islam; -for that matter there are some points of resemblance between Jews and -Gypsies. But after that the lists are made up of anything that comes to -hand; of anything that can be put in the same catalogue without being in -the same category. - -In this sketch of religious history, with all decent deference to men -much more learned than myself, I propose to cut across and disregard -this modern method of classification, which I feel sure has falsified -the facts of history. I shall here submit an alternative classification -of religion or religions, which I believe would be found to cover all -the facts and, what is quite as important here, all the fancies. Instead -of dividing religion geographically, and as it were vertically, into -Christian, Moslem, Brahmin, Buddhist, and so on, I would divide it -psychologically and in some sense horizontally; into the strata of -spiritual elements and influences that could sometimes exist in the same -country, or even in the same man. Putting the Church apart for the -moment, I should be disposed to divide the natural religion of the mass -of mankind under such headings as these: God; the Gods; the Demons; the -Philosophers. I believe some such classification will help us to sort -out the spiritual experiences of men much more successfully than the -conventional business of comparing religions; and that many famous -figures will naturally fall into their place in this way who are only -forced into their place in the other. As I shall make use of these -titles or terms more than once in narrative and allusion, it will be -well to define at this stage for what I mean them to stand. And I will -begin with the first, the simplest and the most sublime, in this -chapter. - -In considering the elements of pagan humanity, we must begin by an -attempt to describe the indescribable. Many get over the difficulty of -describing it by the expedient of denying it, or at least ignoring it; -but the whole point of it is that it was something that was never quite -eliminated even when it was ignored. They are obsessed by their -evolutionary monomania that every great thing grows from a seed, or -something smaller than itself. They seem to forget that every seed comes -from a tree, or from something larger than itself. Now there is very -good ground for guessing that religion did not originally come from some -detail that was forgotten because it was too small to be traced. Much -more probably it was an idea that was abandoned because it was too large -to be managed. There is very good reason to suppose that many people did -begin with the simple but overwhelming idea of one God who governs all; -and afterwards fell away into such things as demon-worship almost as a -sort of secret dissipation. Even the test of savage beliefs, of which -the folk-lore students are so fond, is admittedly often found to support -such a view. Some of the very rudest savages, primitive in every sense -in which anthropologists use the word, the Australian aborigines for -instance, are found to have a pure monotheism with a high moral tone. A -missionary was preaching to a very wild tribe of polytheists, who had -told him all their polytheistic tales, and telling them in return of the -existence of the one good God who is a spirit and judges men by -spiritual standards. And there was a sudden buzz of excitement among -these stolid barbarians, as at somebody who was letting out a secret, -and they cried to each other, ‘Atahocan! He is speaking of Atahocan!’ - -Probably it was a point of politeness and even decency among those -polytheists not to speak of Atahocan. The name is not perhaps so much -adapted as some of our own to direct and solemn religious exhortation; -but many other social forces are always covering up and confusing such -simple ideas. Possibly the old god stood for an old morality found -irksome in more expansive moments; possibly intercourse with demons was -more fashionable among the best people, as in the modern fashion of -Spiritualism. Anyhow, there are any number of similar examples. They all -testify to the unmistakable psychology of a thing taken for granted, as -distinct from a thing talked about. There is a striking example in a -tale taken down word for word from a Red Indian in California, which -starts out with hearty legendary and literary relish: ‘The sun is the -father and ruler of the heavens. He is the big chief. The moon is his -wife and the stars are their children’; and so on through a most -ingenious and complicated story, in the middle of which is a sudden -parenthesis saying that sun and moon have to do something because ‘It is -ordered that way by the Great Spirit Who lives above the place of all.’ -That is exactly the attitude of most paganism towards God. He is -something assumed and forgotten and remembered by accident; a habit -possibly not peculiar to pagans. Sometimes the higher deity is -remembered in the higher moral grades and is a sort of mystery. But -always, it has been truly said, the savage is talkative about his -mythology and taciturn about his religion. The Australian savages, -indeed, exhibit a topsyturvydom such as the ancients might have thought -truly worthy of the antipodes. The savage who thinks nothing of tossing -off such a trifle as a tale of the sun and moon being the halves of a -baby chopped in two, or dropping into small-talk about a colossal cosmic -cow milked to make the rain, merely in order to be sociable, will then -retire to secret caverns sealed against women and white men, temples of -terrible initiation where to the thunder of the bull-roarer and the -dripping of sacrificial blood, the priest whispers the final secrets -known only to the initiate: that honesty is the best policy, that a -little kindness does nobody any harm, that all men are brothers and that -there is but one God, the Father Almighty, maker of all things visible -and invisible. - -In other words, we have here the curiosity of religious history that the -savage seems to be parading all the most repulsive and impossible parts -of his belief and concealing all the most sensible and creditable parts. -But the explanation is that they are not in that sense parts of his -belief; or at least not parts of the same sort of belief. The myths are -merely tall stories, though as tall as the sky, the waterspout, or the -tropic rain. The mysteries are true stories, and are taken secretly that -they may be taken seriously. Indeed it is only too easy to forget that -there is a thrill in theism. A novel in which a number of separate -characters all turned out to be the same character would certainly be a -sensational novel. It is so with the idea that sun and tree and river -are the disguises of one god and not of many. Alas, we also find it only -too easy to take Atahocan for granted. But whether he is allowed to fade -into a truism or preserved as a sensation by being preserved as a -secret, it is clear that he is always either an old truism or an old -tradition. There is nothing to show that he is an improved product of -the mere mythology and everything to show that he preceded it. He is -worshipped by the simplest tribes with no trace of ghosts or -grave-offerings, or any of the complications in which Herbert Spencer -and Grant Allen sought the origin of the simplest of all ideas. Whatever -else there was, there was never any such thing as the Evolution of the -Idea of God. The idea was concealed, was avoided, was almost forgotten, -was even explained away; but it was never evolved. There are not a few -indications of this change in other places. It is implied, for -instance, in the fact that even polytheism seems often the combination -of several monotheisms. A god will gain only a minor seat on Mount -Olympus, when he had owned earth and heaven and all the stars while he -lived in his own little valley. Like many a small nation melting in a -great empire, he gives up local universality only to come under -universal limitation. The very name of Pan suggests that he became a god -of the wood when he had been a god of the world. The very name of -Jupiter is almost a pagan translation of the words ‘Our Father which art -in heaven.’ As with the Great Father symbolised by the sky, so with the -Great Mother whom we still call Mother Earth. Demeter and Ceres and -Cybele often seem to be almost incapable of taking over the whole -business of godhood, so that men should need no other gods. It seems -reasonably probable that a good many men did have no other gods but one -of these, worshipped as the author of all. - -Over some of the most immense and populous tracts of the world, such as -China, it would seem that the simpler idea of the Great Father has never -been very much complicated with rival cults, though it may have in some -sense ceased to be a cult itself. The best authorities seem to think -that though Confucianism is in one sense agnosticism, it does not -directly contradict the old theism, precisely because it has become a -rather vague theism. It is one in which God is called Heaven, as in the -case of polite persons tempted to swear in drawing-rooms. But Heaven is -still overhead, even if it is very far overhead. We have all the -impression of a simple truth that has receded, until it was remote -without ceasing to be true. And this phrase alone would bring us back to -the same idea even in the pagan mythology of the West. There is surely -something of this very notion of the withdrawal of some higher power in -all those mysterious and very imaginative myths about the separation of -earth and sky. In a hundred forms we are told that heaven and earth were -once lovers, or were once at one, when some upstart thing, often some -undutiful child, thrust them apart; and the world was built on an abyss; -upon a division and a parting. One of its grossest versions was given by -Greek civilisation in the myth of Uranus and Saturn. One of its most -charming versions was that of some savage people, who say that a little -pepper-plant grew taller and taller and lifted the whole sky like a lid; -a beautiful barbaric vision of daybreak for some of our painters who -love that tropical twilight. Of myths, and the highly mythical -explanations which the moderns offer of myths, something will be said in -another section; for I cannot but think that most mythology is on -another and more superficial plane. But in this primeval vision of the -rending of one world into two there is surely something more of ultimate -ideas. As to what it means, a man will learn far more about it by lying -on his back in a field, and merely looking at the sky, than by reading -all the libraries even of the most learned and valuable folk-lore. He -will know what is meant by saying that the sky ought to be nearer to us -than it is, that perhaps it was once nearer than it is, that it is not a -thing merely alien and abysmal but in some fashion sundered from us and -saying farewell. There will creep across his mind the curious suggestion -that after all, perhaps, the myth-maker was not merely a moon-calf or -village idiot thinking he could cut up the clouds like a cake, but had -in him something more than it is fashionable to attribute to the -Troglodyte; that it is just possible that Thomas Hood was not talking -like a Troglodyte when he said that, as time went on, the tree-tops only -told him he was further off from heaven than when he was a boy. But -anyhow the legend of Uranus the Lord of Heaven dethroned by Saturn the -Time Spirit would mean something to the author of that poem. And it -would mean, among other things, this banishment of the first -fatherhood. There is the idea of God in the very notion that there were -gods before the gods. There is an idea of greater simplicity in all the -allusions to that more ancient order. The suggestion is supported by the -process of propagation we see in historic times. Gods and demigods and -heroes breed like herrings before our very eyes, and suggest of -themselves that the family may have had one founder; mythology grows -more and more complicated, and the very complication suggests that at -the beginning it was more simple. Even on the external evidence, of the -sort called scientific, there is therefore a very good case for the -suggestion that man began with monotheism before it developed or -degenerated into polytheism. But I am concerned rather with an internal -than an external truth; and, as I have already said, the internal truth -is almost indescribable. We have to speak of something of which it is -the whole point that people did not speak of it; we have not merely to -translate from a strange tongue or speech, but from a strange silence. - -I suspect an immense implication behind all polytheism and paganism. I -suspect we have only a hint of it here and there in these savage creeds -or Greek origins. It is not exactly what we mean by the presence of God; -in a sense it might more truly be called the absence of God. But absence -does not mean non-existence; and a man drinking the toast of absent -friends does not mean that from his life all friendship is absent. It is -a void but it is not a negation; it is something as positive as an empty -chair. It would be an exaggeration to say that the pagan saw higher than -Olympus an empty throne. It would be nearer the truth to take the -gigantic imagery of the Old Testament, in which the prophet saw God from -behind; it was as if some immeasurable presence had turned its back on -the world. Yet the meaning will again be missed if it is supposed to be -anything so conscious and vivid as the monotheism of Moses and his -people. I do not mean that the pagan peoples were in the least -overpowered by this idea merely because it is overpowering. On the -contrary, it was so large that they all carried it lightly, as we all -carry the load of the sky. Gazing at some detail like a bird or a cloud, -we can all ignore its awful blue background; we can neglect the sky; and -precisely because it bears down upon us with an annihilating force, it -is felt as nothing. A thing of this kind can only be an impression and a -rather subtle impression; but to me it is a very strong impression made -by pagan literature and religion. I repeat that in our special -sacramental sense there is, of course, the absence of the presence of -God. But there is in a very real sense the presence of the absence of -God. We feel it in the unfathomable sadness of pagan poetry; for I doubt -if there was ever in all the marvellous manhood of antiquity a man who -was happy as St. Francis was happy. We feel it in the legend of a Golden -Age and again in the vague implication that the gods themselves are -ultimately related to something else, even when that Unknown God has -faded into a Fate. Above all we feel it in those immortal moments when -the pagan literature seems to return to a more innocent antiquity and -speak with a more direct voice, so that no word is worthy of it except -our own monotheistic monosyllable. We cannot say anything but ‘God’ in a -sentence like that of Socrates bidding farewell to his judges: ‘I go to -die and you remain to live; and God alone knows which of us goes the -better way.’ We can use no other word even for the best moments of -Marcus Aurelius: ‘Can they say dear city of Cecrops, and canst thou not -say dear city of God?’ We can use no other word in that mighty line in -which Virgil spoke to all who suffer with the veritable cry of a -Christian before Christ, in the untranslatable: ‘O passi graviora dabit -deus his quoque finem.’ - -In short, there is a feeling that there is something higher than the -gods; but because it is higher it is also further away. Not yet could -even Virgil have read the riddle and the paradox of that other divinity, -who is both higher and nearer. For them what was truly divine was very -distant, so distant that they dismissed it more and more from their -minds. It had less and less to do with the mere mythology of which I -shall write later. Yet even in this there was a sort of tacit admission -of its intangible purity, when we consider what most of the mythology is -like. As the Jews would not degrade it by images, so the Greeks did not -degrade it even by imaginations. When the gods were more and more -remembered only by pranks and profligacies, it was relatively a movement -of reverence. It was an act of piety to forget God. In other words, -there is something in the whole tone of the time suggesting that men had -accepted a lower level, and still were half conscious that it was a -lower level. It is hard to find words for these things; yet the one -really just word stands ready. These men were conscious of the Fall, if -they were conscious of nothing else; and the same is true of all heathen -humanity. Those who have fallen may remember the fall, even when they -forget the height. Some such tantalising blank or break in memory is at -the back of all pagan sentiment. There is such a thing as the momentary -power to remember that we forget. And the most ignorant of humanity know -by the very look of earth that they have forgotten heaven. But it -remains true that even for these men there were moments, like the -memories of childhood, when they heard themselves talking with a simpler -language; there were moments when the Roman, like Virgil in the line -already quoted, cut his way with a sword-stroke of song out of the -tangle of the mythologies; the motley mob of gods and goddesses sank -suddenly out of sight and the Sky-Father was alone in the sky. - -This latter example is very relevant to the next step in the process. A -white light as of a lost morning still lingers on the figure of Jupiter, -of Pan, or of the elder Apollo; and it may well be, as already noted, -that each was once a divinity as solitary as Jehovah or Allah. They lost -this lonely universality by a process it is here very necessary to note; -a process of amalgamation very like what was afterwards called -syncretism. The whole pagan world set itself to build a Pantheon. They -admitted more and more gods, gods not only of the Greeks but of the -barbarians; gods not only of Europe but of Asia and Africa. The more the -merrier, though some of the Asian and African ones were not very merry. -They admitted them to equal thrones with their own; sometimes they -identified them with their own. They may have regarded it as an -enrichment of their religious life; but it meant the final loss of all -that we now call religion. It meant that ancient light of simplicity, -that had a single source like the sun, finally fades away in a dazzle of -conflicting lights and colours. God is really sacrificed to the gods; in -a very literal sense of the flippant phrase, they have been too many for -him. - -Polytheism, therefore, was really a sort of pool; in the sense of the -pagans having consented to the pooling of their pagan religions. And -this point is very important in many controversies ancient and modern. -It is regarded as a liberal and enlightened thing to say that the god of -the stranger may be as good as our own; and doubtless the pagans thought -themselves very liberal and enlightened when they agreed to add to the -gods of the city or the hearth some wild and fantastic Dionysus coming -down from the mountains or some shaggy and rustic Pan creeping out of -the woods. But exactly what it lost by these larger ideas is the largest -idea of all. It is the idea of the fatherhood that makes the whole -world one. And the converse is also true. Doubtless those more -antiquated men of antiquity who clung to their solitary statues and -their single sacred names were regarded as superstitious savages -benighted and left behind. But these superstitious savages were -preserving something that is much more like the cosmic power as -conceived by philosophy, or even as conceived by science. This paradox -by which the rude reactionary was a sort of prophetic progressive has -one consequence very much to the point. In a purely historical sense, -and apart from any other controversies in the same connection, it throws -a light, a single and a steady light, that shines from the beginning on -a little and lonely people. In this paradox, as in some riddle of -religion of which the answer was sealed up for centuries, lies the -mission and the meaning of the Jews. - -It is true in this sense, humanly speaking, that the world owes God to -the Jews. It owes that truth to much that is blamed in the Jews, -possibly to much that is blameable in the Jews. We have already noted -the nomadic position of the Jews amid the other pastoral peoples upon -the fringe of the Babylonian Empire, and something of that strange -erratic course of theirs blazed across the dark territory of extreme -antiquity, as they passed from the seat of Abraham and the shepherd -princes into Egypt and doubled back into the Palestinian hills and held -them against the Philistines from Crete and fell into captivity in -Babylon; and yet again returned to their mountain city by the Zionist -policy of the Persian conquerors; and so continued that amazing romance -of restlessness of which we have not yet seen the end. But through all -their wanderings, and especially through all their early wanderings, -they did indeed carry the fate of the world in that wooden tabernacle, -that held perhaps a featureless symbol and certainly an invisible god. -We may say that one most essential feature was that it was featureless. -Much as we may prefer that creative liberty which the Christian culture -has declared and by which it has eclipsed even the arts of antiquity, we -must not underrate the determining importance at the time of the Hebrew -inhibition of images. It is a typical example of one of those -limitations that did in fact preserve and perpetuate enlargement, like a -wall built round a wide open space. The God who could not have a statue -remained a spirit. Nor would his statue in any case have had the -disarming dignity and grace of the Greek statues then or the Christian -statues afterwards. He was living in a land of monsters. We shall have -occasion to consider more fully what those monsters were, Moloch and -Dagon and Tanit the terrible goddess. If the deity of Israel had ever -had an image, he would have had a phallic image. By merely giving him a -body they would have brought in all the worst elements of mythology; all -the polygamy of polytheism; the vision of the harem in heaven. This -point about the refusal of art is the first example of the limitations -which are often adversely criticised, only because the critics -themselves are limited. But an even stronger case can be found in the -other criticism offered by the same critics. It is often said with a -sneer that the God of Israel was only a God of Battles, ‘a mere barbaric -Lord of Hosts’ pitted in rivalry against other gods only as their -envious foe. Well it is for the world that he was a God of Battles. Well -it is for us that he was to all the rest only a rival and a foe. In the -ordinary way, it would have been only too easy for them to have achieved -the desolate disaster of conceiving him as a friend. It would have been -only too easy for them to have seen him stretching out his hands in love -and reconciliation, embracing Baal and kissing the painted face of -Astarte, feasting in fellowship with the gods; the last god to sell his -crown of stars for the Soma of the Indian pantheon or the nectar of -Olympus or the mead of Valhalla. It would have been easy enough for his -worshippers to follow the enlightened course of Syncretism and the -pooling of all the pagan traditions. It is obvious indeed that his -followers were always sliding down this easy slope; and it required the -almost demoniac energy of certain inspired demagogues, who testified to -the divine unity in words that are still like winds of inspiration and -ruin. The more we really understand of the ancient conditions that -contributed to the final culture of the Faith, the more we shall have a -real and even a realistic reverence for the greatness of the Prophets of -Israel. As it was, while the whole world melted into this mass of -confused mythology, this Deity who is called tribal and narrow, -precisely because he was what is called tribal and narrow, preserved the -primary religion of all mankind. He was tribal enough to be universal. -He was as narrow as the universe. - -In a word, there was a popular pagan god called Jupiter-Ammon. There was -never a god called Jehovah-Ammon. There was never a god called -Jehovah-Jupiter. If there had been, there would certainly have been -another called Jehovah-Moloch. Long before the liberal and enlightened -amalgamators had got so far afield as Jupiter, the image of the Lord of -Hosts would have been deformed out of all suggestion of a monotheistic -maker and ruler and would have become an idol far worse than any savage -fetish; for he might have been as civilised as the gods of Tyre and -Carthage. What that civilisation meant we shall consider more fully in -the chapter that follows; when we note how the power of demons nearly -destroyed Europe and even the heathen health of the world. But the -world’s destiny would have been distorted still more fatally if -monotheism had failed in the Mosaic tradition. I hope in a subsequent -section to show that I am not without sympathy with all that health in -the heathen world that made its fairy-tales and its fanciful romances -of religion. But I hope also to show that these were bound to fail in -the long run; and the world would have been lost if it had been unable -to return to that great original simplicity of a single authority in all -things. That we do preserve something of that primary simplicity, that -poets and philosophers can still indeed in some sense say an Universal -Prayer, that we live in a large and serene world under a sky that -stretches paternally over all the peoples of the earth, that philosophy -and philanthropy are truisms in a religion of reasonable men, all that -we do most truly owe, under heaven, to a secretive and restless nomadic -people; who bestowed on men the supreme and serene blessing of a jealous -God. - -The unique possession was not available or accessible to the pagan -world, because it was also the possession of a jealous people. The Jews -were unpopular, partly because of this narrowness already noted in the -Roman world, partly perhaps because they had already fallen into that -habit of merely handling things for exchange instead of working to make -them with their hands. It was partly also because polytheism had become -a sort of jungle in which solitary monotheism could be lost; but it is -strange to realise how completely it really was lost. Apart from more -disputed matters, there were things in the tradition of Israel which -belong to all humanity now, and might have belonged to all humanity -then. They had one of the colossal corner-stones of the world: the Book -of Job. It obviously stands over against the Iliad and the Greek -tragedies; and even more than they it was an early meeting and parting -of poetry and philosophy in the morning of the world. It is a solemn and -uplifting sight to see those two eternal fools, the optimist and the -pessimist, destroyed in the dawn of time. And the philosophy really -perfects the pagan tragic irony, precisely because it is more -monotheistic and therefore more mystical. Indeed the Book of Job -avowedly only answers mystery with mystery. Job is comforted with -riddles; but he is comforted. Herein is indeed a type, in the sense of -a prophecy, of things speaking with authority. For when he who doubts -can only say, ‘I do not understand,’ it is true that he who knows can -only reply or repeat, ‘You do not understand.’ And under that rebuke -there is always a sudden hope in the heart; and the sense of something -that would be worth understanding. But this mighty monotheistic poem -remained unremarked by the whole world of antiquity, which was thronged -with polytheistic poetry. It is a sign of the way in which the Jews -stood apart and kept their tradition unshaken and unshared, that they -should have kept a thing like the Book of Job out of the whole -intellectual world of antiquity. It is as if the Egyptians had modestly -concealed the Great Pyramid. But there were other reasons for a -cross-purpose and an impasse, characteristic of the whole of the end of -paganism. After all, the tradition of Israel had only got hold of one -half of the truth, even if we use the popular paradox and call it the -bigger half. I shall try to sketch in the next chapter that love of -locality and of personality that ran through mythology; here it need -only be said that there was a truth in it that could not be left out, -though it were a lighter and less essential truth. The sorrow of Job had -to be joined with the sorrow of Hector; and while the former was the -sorrow of the universe the latter was the sorrow of the city; for Hector -could only stand pointing to heaven as the pillar of holy Troy. When God -speaks out of the whirlwind He may well speak in the wilderness. But the -monotheism of the nomad was not enough for all that varied civilisation -of fields and fences and walled cities and temples and towns; and the -turn of these things also was to come, when the two could be combined in -a more definite and domestic religion. Here and there in all that pagan -crowd could be found a philosopher whose thoughts ran on pure theism; -but he never had, or supposed that he had, the power to change the -customs of the whole populace. Nor is it easy even in such philosophies -to find a true definition of this deep business of the relation of -polytheism and theism. Perhaps the nearest we can come to striking the -note, or giving the thing a name, is in something far away from all that -civilisation and more remote from Rome than the isolation of Israel. It -is in a saying I once heard from some Hindu tradition; that gods as well -as men are only the dreams of Brahma; and will perish when Brahma wakes. -There is indeed in such an image something of the soul of Asia which is -less sane than the soul of Christendom. We should call it despair, even -if they would call it peace. This note of nihilism can be considered -later in a fuller comparison between Asia and Europe. It is enough to -say here that there is more of disillusion in that idea of a divine -awakening than is implied for us in the passage from mythology to -religion. But the symbol is very subtle and exact in one respect; that -it does suggest the disproportion and even disruption between the very -ideas of mythology and religion; the chasm between the two categories. -It is really the collapse of comparative religion that there is no -comparison between God and the gods. There is no more comparison than -there is between a man and the men who walk about in his dreams. Under -the next heading some attempt will be made to indicate the twilight of -that dream in which the gods walk about like men. But if any one fancies -the contrast of monotheism and polytheism is only a matter of some -people having one god and others a few more, for him it will be far -nearer the truth to plunge into the elephantine extravagance of Brahmin -cosmology; that he may feel a shudder going through the veil of things, -the many-handed creators, and the throned and haloed animals and all the -network of entangled stars and rulers of the night, as the awful eyes of -Brahma open like dawn upon the death of all. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -MAN AND MYTHOLOGIES - - -What are here called the Gods might almost alternatively be called the -Day-Dreams. To compare them to dreams is not to deny that dreams can -come true. To compare them to travellers’ tales is not to deny that they -may be true tales, or at least truthful tales. In truth they are the -sort of tales the traveller tells to himself. All this mythological -business belongs to the poetical part of men. It seems strangely -forgotten nowadays that a myth is a work of imagination and therefore a -work of art. It needs a poet to make it. It needs a poet to criticise -it. There are more poets than non-poets in the world, as is proved by -the popular origin of such legends. But for some reason I have never -heard explained, it is only the minority of unpoetical people who are -allowed to write critical studies of these popular poems. We do not -submit a sonnet to a mathematician or a song to a calculating boy; but -we do indulge the equally fantastic idea that folk-lore can be treated -as a science. Unless these things are appreciated artistically they are -not appreciated at all. When the professor is told by the barbarian that -once there was nothing except a great feathered serpent, unless the -learned man feels a thrill and a half temptation to wish it were true, -he is no judge of such things at all. When he is assured, on the best -Red Indian authority, that a primitive hero carried the sun and moon and -stars in a box, unless he claps his hands and almost kicks his legs as a -child would at such a charming fancy, he knows nothing about the matter. -This test is not nonsensical; primitive children and barbaric children -do laugh and kick like other children; and we must have a certain -simplicity to repicture the childhood of the world. When Hiawatha was -told by his nurse that a warrior threw his grandmother up to the moon, -he laughed like any English child told by his nurse that a cow jumped -over the moon. The child sees the joke as well as most men, and better -than some scientific men. But the ultimate test even of the fantastic is -the appropriateness of the inappropriate. And the test must appear -merely arbitrary because it is merely artistic. If any student tells me -that the infant Hiawatha only laughed out of respect for the tribal -custom of sacrificing the aged to economical housekeeping, I say he did -not. If any scholar tells me that the cow jumped over the moon only -because a heifer was sacrificed to Diana, I answer that it did not. It -happened because it is obviously the right thing for a cow to jump over -the moon. Mythology is a lost art, one of the few arts that really are -lost; but it is an art. The horned moon and the horned mooncalf make a -harmonious and almost a quiet pattern. And throwing your grandmother -into the sky is not good behaviour; but it is perfectly good taste. - -Thus scientists seldom understand, as artists understand, that one -branch of the beautiful is the ugly. They seldom allow for the -legitimate liberty of the grotesque. And they will dismiss a savage myth -as merely coarse and clumsy and an evidence of degradation, because it -has not all the beauty of the herald Mercury new lighted on a -heaven-kissing hill; when it really has the beauty of the Mock Turtle of -the Mad Hatter. It is the supreme proof of a man being prosaic that he -always insists on poetry being poetical. Sometimes the humour is in the -very subject as well as the style of the fable. The Australian -aborigines, regarded as the rudest of savages, have a story about a -giant frog who had swallowed the sea and all the waters of the world; -and who was only forced to spill them by being made to laugh. All the -animals with all their antics passed before him and, like Queen -Victoria, he was not amused. He collapsed at last before an eel who -stood delicately balanced on the tip of its tail, doubtless with a -rather desperate dignity. Any amount of fine fantastic literature might -be made out of that fable. There is philosophy in that vision of the dry -world before the beatific Deluge of laughter. There is imagination in -the mountainous monster erupting like an aqueous volcano; there is -plenty of fun in the thought of his goggling visage as the pelican or -the penguin passed by. Anyhow the frog laughed; but the folk-lore -student remains grave. - -Moreover, even where the fables are inferior as art, they cannot be -properly judged by science; still less properly judged as science. Some -myths are very crude and queer like the early drawings of children; but -the child is trying to draw. It is none the less an error to treat his -drawing as if it were a diagram, or intended to be a diagram. The -student cannot make a scientific statement about the savage, because the -savage is not making a scientific statement about the world. He is -saying something quite different; what might be called the gossip of the -gods. We may say, if we like, that it is believed before there is time -to examine it. It would be truer to say it is accepted before there is -time to believe it. - -I confess I doubt the whole theory of the dissemination of myths or (as -it commonly is) of one myth. It is true that something in our nature and -conditions makes many stories similar; but each of them may be original. -One man does not borrow the story from the other man, though he may tell -it from the same motive as the other man. It would be easy to apply the -whole argument about legend to literature; and turn it into a vulgar -monomania of plagiarism. I would undertake to trace a notion like that -of the Golden Bough through individual modern novels as easily as -through communal and antiquated myths. I would undertake to find -something like a bunch of flowers figuring again and again from the -fatal bouquet of Becky Sharpe to the spray of roses sent by the Princess -of Ruritania. But though these flowers may spring from the same soil, it -is not the same faded flower that is flung from hand to hand. Those -flowers are always fresh. - -The true origin of all the myths has been discovered much too often. -There are too many keys to mythology, as there are too many cryptograms -in Shakespeare. Everything is phallic; everything is totemistic; -everything is seed-time and harvest; everything is ghosts and -grave-offerings; everything is the golden bough of sacrifice; everything -is the sun and moon; everything is everything. Every folk-lore student -who knew a little more than his own monomania, every man of wider -reading and critical culture like Andrew Lang, has practically confessed -that the bewilderment of these things left his brain spinning. Yet the -whole trouble comes from a man trying to look at these stories from the -outside, as if they were scientific objects. He has only to look at them -from the inside, and ask himself how he would begin a story. A story may -start with anything and go anywhere. It may start with a bird without -the bird being a totem; it may start with the sun without being a solar -myth. It is said there are only ten plots in the world; and there will -certainly be common and recurrent elements. Set ten thousand children -talking at once, and telling tarradiddles about what they did in the -wood; and it will not be hard to find parallels suggesting sun-worship -or animal-worship. Some of the stories may be pretty and some silly and -some perhaps dirty; but they can only be judged as stories. In the -modern dialect, they can only be judged aesthetically. It is strange -that aesthetics, or mere feeling, which is now allowed to usurp where -it has no rights at all, to wreck reason with pragmatism and morals with -anarchy, is apparently not allowed to give a purely aesthetic judgment -on what is obviously a purely aesthetic question. We may be fanciful -about everything except fairy-tales. - -Now the first fact is that the most simple people have the most subtle -ideas. Everybody ought to know that, for everybody has been a child. -Ignorant as a child is, he knows more than he can say and feels not only -atmospheres but fine shades. And in this matter there are several fine -shades. Nobody understands it who has not had what can only be called -the ache of the artist to find some sense and some story in the -beautiful things he sees; his hunger for secrets and his anger at any -tower or tree escaping with its tale untold. He feels that nothing is -perfect unless it is personal. Without that the blind unconscious beauty -of the world stands in its garden like a headless statue. One need only -be a very minor poet to have wrestled with the tower or the tree until -it spoke like a titan or a dryad. It is often said that pagan mythology -was a personification of the powers of nature. The phrase is true in a -sense, but it is very unsatisfactory; because it implies that the forces -are abstractions and the personification is artificial. Myths are not -allegories. Natural powers are not in this case abstractions. It is not -as if there were a God of Gravitation. There may be a genius of the -waterfall; but not of mere falling, even less than of mere water. The -impersonation is not of something impersonal. The point is that the -personality perfects the water with significance. Father Christmas is -not an allegory of snow and holly; he is not merely the stuff called -snow afterwards artificially given a human form, like a snow man. He is -something that gives a new meaning to the white world and the -evergreens; so that snow itself seems to be warm rather than cold. The -test therefore is purely imaginative. But imaginative does not mean -imaginary. It does not follow that it is all what the moderns call -subjective, when they mean false. Every true artist does feel, -consciously or unconsciously, that he is touching transcendental truths; -that his images are shadows of things seen through the veil. In other -words, the natural mystic does know that there is something _there_; -something behind the clouds or within the trees; but he believes that -the pursuit of beauty is the way to find it; that imagination is a sort -of incantation that can call it up. - -Now we do not comprehend this process in ourselves, far less in our most -remote fellow-creatures. And the danger of these things being classified -is that they may seem to be comprehended. A really fine work of -folk-lore, like _The Golden Bough_, will leave too many readers with the -idea, for instance, that this or that story of a giant’s or wizard’s -heart in a casket or a cave only ‘means’ some stupid and static -superstition called ‘the external soul.’ But we do not know what these -things mean, simply because we do not know what we ourselves mean when -we are moved by them. Suppose somebody in a story says ‘Pluck this -flower and a princess will die in a castle beyond the sea,’ we do not -know why something stirs in the subconsciousness, or why what is -impossible seems also inevitable. Suppose we read ‘And in the hour when -the king extinguished the candle his ships were wrecked far away on the -coast of the Hebrides.’ We do not know why the imagination has accepted -that image before the reason can reject it; or why such correspondences -seem really to correspond to something in the soul. Very deep things in -our nature, some dim sense of the dependence of great things upon small, -some dark suggestion that the things nearest to us stretch far beyond -our power, some sacramental feeling of the magic in material substances, -and many more emotions past finding out, are in an idea like that of the -external soul. The power even in the myths of savages is like the power -in the metaphors of poets. The soul of such a metaphor is often very -emphatically an external soul. The best critics have remarked that in -the best poets the simile is often a picture that seems quite separate -from the text. It is as irrelevant as the remote castle to the flower or -the Hebridean coast to the candle. Shelley compares the skylark to a -young woman in a turret, to a rose embedded in thick foliage, to a -series of things that seem to be about as unlike a skylark in the sky as -anything we can imagine. I suppose the most potent piece of pure magic -in English literature is the much-quoted passage in Keats’s -_Nightingale_ about the casements opening on the perilous foam. And -nobody notices that the image seems to come from nowhere; that it -appears abruptly after some almost equally irrelevant remarks about -Ruth; and that it has nothing in the world to do with the subject of the -poem. If there is one place in the world where nobody could reasonably -expect to find a nightingale, it is on a window-sill at the seaside. But -it is only in the same sense that nobody would expect to find a giant’s -heart in a casket under the sea. Now, it would be very dangerous to -classify the metaphors of the poets. When Shelley says that the cloud -will rise ‘like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,’ it -would be quite possible to call the first a case of the coarse primitive -birth-myth and the second a survival of the ghost-worship which became -ancestor-worship. But it is the wrong way of dealing with a cloud; and -is liable to leave the learned in the condition of Polonius, only too -ready to think it like a weasel, or very like a whale. - -Two facts follow from this psychology of day-dreams, which must be kept -in mind throughout their development in mythologies and even religions. -First, these imaginative impressions are often strictly local. So far -from being abstractions turned into allegories, they are often images -almost concentrated into idols. The poet feels the mystery of a -particular forest; not of the science of afforestation or the department -of woods and forests. He worships the peak of a particular mountain, not -the abstract idea of altitude. So we find the god is not merely water -but often one special river; he may be the sea because the sea is single -like a stream; the river that runs round the world. Ultimately doubtless -many deities are enlarged into elements; but they are something more -than omnipresent. Apollo does not merely dwell wherever the sun shines; -his home is on the rock of Delphi. Diana is great enough to be in three -places at once, earth and heaven and hell, but greater is Diana of the -Ephesians. This localised feeling has its lowest form in the mere fetish -or talisman, such as millionaires put on their motor-cars. But it can -also harden into something like a high and serious religion, where it is -connected with high and serious duties; into the gods of the city or -even the gods of the hearth. - -The second consequence is this: that in these pagan cults there is every -shade of sincerity--and insincerity. In what sense exactly did an -Athenian really think he had to sacrifice to Pallas Athene? What scholar -is really certain of the answer? In what sense did Dr. Johnson really -think that he had to touch all the posts in the street or that he had to -collect orange-peel? In what sense does a child really think that he -ought to step on every alternate paving-stone? Two things are at least -fairly clear. First, in simpler and less self-conscious times these -forms could become more solid without really becoming more serious. -Day-dreams could be acted in broad daylight, with more liberty of -artistic expression; but still perhaps with something of the light step -of the somnambulist. Wrap Dr. Johnson in an antique mantle, crown him -(by his kind permission) with a garland, and he will move in state under -those ancient skies of morning; touching a series of sacred posts -carved with the heads of the strange terminal gods, that stand at the -limits of the land and of the life of man. Make the child free of the -marbles and mosaics of some classic temple, to play on a whole floor -inlaid with squares of black and white; and he will willingly make this -fulfilment of his idle and drifting day-dream the clear field for a -grave and graceful dance. But the posts and the paving-stones are little -more and little less real than they are under modern limits. They are -not really much more serious for being taken seriously. They have the -sort of sincerity that they always had; the sincerity of art as a symbol -that expresses very real spiritualities under the surface of life. But -they are only sincere in the same sense as art; not sincere in the same -sense as morality. The eccentric’s collection of orange-peel may turn to -oranges in a Mediterranean festival or to golden apples in a -Mediterranean myth. But they are never on the same plane with the -difference between giving the orange to a blind beggar and carefully -placing the orange-peel so that the beggar may fall and break his leg. -Between these two things there is a difference of kind and not of -degree. The child does not think it wrong to step on the paving-stone as -he thinks it wrong to step on the dog’s tail. And it is very certain -that whatever jest or sentiment or fancy first set Johnson touching the -wooden posts, he never touched wood with any of the feeling with which -he stretched out his hands to the timber of that terrible tree, which -was the death of God and the life of man. - -As already noted, this does not mean that there was no reality or even -no religious sentiment in such a mood. As a matter of fact the Catholic -Church has taken over with uproarious success the whole of this popular -business of giving people local legends and lighter ceremonial -movements. In so far as all this sort of paganism was innocent and in -touch with nature, there is no reason why it should not be patronised by -patron saints as much as by pagan gods. And in any case there are -degrees of seriousness in the most natural make-believe. There is all -the difference between fancying there are fairies in the wood, which -often only means fancying a certain wood as fit for fairies, and really -frightening ourselves until we will walk a mile rather than pass a house -we have told ourselves is haunted. Behind all these things is the fact -that beauty and terror are very real things and related to a real -spiritual world; and to touch them at all, even in doubt or fancy, is to -stir the deep things of the soul. We all understand that and the pagans -understood it. The point is that paganism did not really stir the soul -except with these doubts and fancies; with the consequence that we -to-day can have little beyond doubts and fancies about paganism. All the -best critics agree that all the greatest poets, in pagan Hellas for -example, had an attitude towards their gods which is quite queer and -puzzling to men in the Christian era. There seems to be an admitted -conflict between the god and the man; but everybody seems to be doubtful -about which is the hero and which is the villain. This doubt does not -merely apply to a doubter like Euripides in the Bacchae; it applies to a -moderate conservative like Sophocles in the Antigone; or even to a -regular Tory and reactionary like Aristophanes in the Frogs. Sometimes -it would seem that the Greeks believed above all things in reverence, -only they had nobody to revere. But the point of the puzzle is this: -that all this vagueness and variation arise from the fact that the whole -thing began in fancy and in dreaming; and that there are no rules of -architecture for a castle in the clouds. - -This is the mighty and branching tree called mythology which ramifies -round the whole world, whose remote branches under separate skies bear -like coloured birds the costly idols of Asia and the half-baked fetishes -of Africa and the fairy kings and princesses of the folk-tales of the -forests, and buried amid vines and olives the Lares of the Latins, and -carried on the clouds of Olympus the buoyant supremacy of the gods of -Greece. These are the myths: and he who has no sympathy with myths has -no sympathy with men. But he who has most sympathy with myths will most -fully realise that they are not and never were a religion, in the sense -that Christianity or even Islam is a religion. They satisfy some of the -needs satisfied by a religion; and notably the need for doing certain -things at certain dates; the need of the twin ideas of festivity and -formality. But though they provide a man with a calendar, they do not -provide him with a creed. A man did not stand up and say ‘I believe in -Jupiter and Juno and Neptune,’ etc., as he stands up and says ‘I believe -in God the Father Almighty’ and the rest of the Apostles’ Creed. Many -believed in some and not in others, or more in some and less in others, -or only in a very vague poetical sense in any. There was no moment when -they were all collected into an orthodox order which men would fight and -be tortured to keep intact. Still less did anybody ever say in that -fashion: ‘I believe in Odin and Thor and Freya,’ for outside Olympus -even the Olympian order grows cloudy and chaotic. It seems clear to me -that Thor was not a god at all but a hero. Nothing resembling a religion -would picture anybody resembling a god as groping like a pigmy in a -great cavern, that turned out to be the glove of a giant. That is the -glorious ignorance called adventure. Thor may have been a great -adventurer; but to call him a god is like trying to compare Jehovah with -Jack and the Beanstalk. Odin seems to have been a real barbarian chief, -possibly of the Dark Ages after Christianity. Polytheism fades away at -its fringes into fairy-tales or barbaric memories; it is not a thing -like monotheism as held by serious monotheists. Again it does satisfy -the need to cry out on some uplifted name or some noble memory in -moments that are themselves noble and uplifted; such as the birth of a -child or the saving of a city. But the name was so used by many to whom -it was only a name. Finally it did satisfy, or rather it partially -satisfied, a thing very deep in humanity indeed; the idea of -surrendering something as the portion of the unknown powers; of pouring -out wine upon the ground, of throwing a ring into the sea; in a word, of -sacrifice. It is the wise and worthy idea of not taking our advantage to -the full; of putting something in the other balance to ballast our -dubious pride, of paying tithes to nature for our land. This deep truth -of the danger of insolence, or being too big for our boots, runs through -all the great Greek tragedies and makes them great. But it runs side by -side with an almost cryptic agnosticism about the real nature of the -gods to be propitiated. Where that gesture of surrender is most -magnificent, as among the great Greeks, there is really much more idea -that the man will be the better for losing the ox than that the god will -be the better for getting it. It is said that in its grosser forms there -are often actions grotesquely suggestive of the god really eating the -sacrifice. But this fact is falsified by the error that I put first in -this note on mythology. It is misunderstanding the psychology of -day-dreams. A child pretending there is a goblin in a hollow tree will -do a crude and material thing, like leaving a piece of cake for him. A -poet might do a more dignified and elegant thing, like bringing to the -god fruits as well as flowers. But the degree of _seriousness_ in both -acts may be the same or it may vary in almost any degree. The crude -fancy is no more a creed than the ideal fancy is a creed. Certainly the -pagan does not disbelieve like an atheist, any more than he believes -like a Christian. He feels the presence of powers about which he guesses -and invents. St. Paul said that the Greeks had one altar to an unknown -god. But in truth all their gods were unknown gods. And the real break -in history did come when St. Paul declared to them whom they had -ignorantly worshipped. - -The substance of all such paganism may be summarised thus. It is an -attempt to reach the divine reality through the imagination alone; in -its own field reason does not restrain it at all. It is vital to the -view of all history that reason is something separate from religion even -in the most rational of these civilisations. It is only as an -afterthought, when such cults are decadent or on the defensive, that a -few Neo-Platonists or a few Brahmins are found trying to rationalise -them, and even then only by trying to allegorise them. But in reality -the rivers of mythology and philosophy run parallel and do not mingle -till they meet in the sea of Christendom. Simple secularists still talk -as if the Church had introduced a sort of schism between reason and -religion. The truth is that the Church was actually the first thing that -ever tried to combine reason and religion. There had never before been -any such union of the priests and the philosophers. Mythology, then, -sought God through the imagination; or sought truth by means of beauty, -in the sense in which beauty includes much of the most grotesque -ugliness. But the imagination has its own laws and therefore its own -triumphs, which neither logicians nor men of science can understand. It -remained true to that imaginative instinct through a thousand -extravagances, through every crude cosmic pantomime of a pig eating the -moon or the world being cut out of a cow, through all the dizzy -convolutions and mystic malformations of Asiatic art, through all the -stark and staring rigidity of Egyptian and Assyrian portraiture, through -every kind of cracked mirror of mad art that seemed to deform the world -and displace the sky, it remained true to something about which there -can be no argument; something that makes it possible for some artist of -some school to stand suddenly still before that particular deformity and -say, ‘My dream has come true.’ Therefore do we all in fact feel that -pagan or primitive myths are infinitely suggestive, so long as we are -wise enough not to inquire what they suggest. Therefore we all feel what -is meant by Prometheus stealing fire from heaven, until some prig of a -pessimist or progressive person explains what it means. Therefore we all -know the meaning of Jack and the Beanstalk, until we are told. In this -sense it is true that it is the ignorant who accept myths, but only -because it is the ignorant who appreciate poems. Imagination has its own -laws and triumphs; and a tremendous power began to clothe its images, -whether images in the mind or in the mud, whether in the bamboo of the -South Sea Islands or the marble of the mountains of Hellas. But there -was always a trouble in the triumph, which in these pages I have tried -to analyse in vain; but perhaps I might in conclusion state it thus. - -The crux and crisis is that man found it natural to worship; even -natural to worship unnatural things. The posture of the idol might be -stiff and strange; but the gesture of the worshipper was generous and -beautiful. He not only felt freer when he bent; he actually felt taller -when he bowed. Henceforth anything that took away the gesture of worship -would stunt and even maim him for ever. Henceforth being merely secular -would be a servitude and an inhibition. If man cannot pray he is gagged; -if he cannot kneel he is in irons. We therefore feel throughout the -whole of paganism a curious double feeling of trust and distrust. When -the man makes the gesture of salutation and of sacrifice, when he pours -out the libation or lifts up the sword, he knows he is doing a worthy -and a virile thing. He knows he is doing one of the things for which a -man was made. His imaginative experiment is therefore justified. But -precisely because it began with imagination, there is to the end -something of mockery in it, and especially in the object of it. This -mockery, in the more intense moments of the intellect, becomes the -almost intolerable irony of Greek tragedy. There seems a disproportion -between the priest and the altar or between the altar and the god. The -priest seems more solemn and almost more sacred than the god. All the -order of the temple is solid and sane and satisfactory to certain parts -of our nature; except the very centre of it, which seems strangely -mutable and dubious, like a dancing flame. It is the first thought round -which the whole has been built; and the first thought is still a fancy -and almost a frivolity. In that strange place of meeting, the man seems -more statuesque than the statue. He himself can stand for ever in the -noble and natural attitude of the statue of the Praying Boy. But -whatever name be written on the pedestal, whether Zeus or Ammon or -Apollo, the god whom he worships is Proteus. - -The Praying Boy may be said to express a need rather than to satisfy a -need. It is by a normal and necessary action that his hands are lifted; -but it is no less a parable that his hands are empty. About the nature -of that need there will be more to say; but at this point it may be said -that perhaps after all this true instinct, that prayer and sacrifice are -a liberty and an enlargement, refers back to that vast and -half-forgotten conception of universal fatherhood, which we have already -seen everywhere fading from the morning sky. This is true; and yet it is -not all the truth. There remains an indestructible instinct, in the poet -as represented by the pagan, that he is not entirely wrong in localising -his god. It is something in the soul of poetry if not of piety. And the -greatest of poets, when he defined the poet, did not say that he gave us -the universe or the absolute or the infinite; but, in his own larger -language, a local habitation and a name. No poet is merely a pantheist; -those who are counted most pantheistic, like Shelley, start with some -local and particular image as the pagans did. After all, Shelley wrote -of the skylark because it was a skylark. You could not issue an imperial -or international translation of it for use in South Africa, in which it -was changed to an ostrich. So the mythological imagination moves as it -were in circles, hovering either to find a place or to return to it. In -a word, mythology is a _search_; it is something that combines a -recurrent desire with a recurrent doubt, mixing a most hungry sincerity -in the idea of seeking for a place with a most dark and deep and -mysterious levity about all the places found. So far could the lonely -imagination lead, and we must turn later to the lonely reason. Nowhere -along this road did the two ever travel together. - -That is where all these things differed from religion in the reality in -which these different dimensions met or a sort of solid. They differed -from the reality not in what they looked like but in what they were. A -picture may look like a landscape; it may look in every detail exactly -like a landscape. The only detail in which it differs is that it is not -a landscape. The difference is only that which divides a portrait of -Queen Elizabeth from Queen Elizabeth. Only in this mythical and mystical -world the portrait could exist before the person; and the portrait was -therefore more vague and doubtful. But anybody who has felt and fed on -the atmosphere of these myths will know what I mean when I say that in -one sense they did not really profess to be realities. The pagans had -dreams about realities; and they would have been the first to admit, in -their own words, that some came through the gate of ivory and others -through the gate of horn. The dreams do indeed tend to be very vivid -dreams when they touch on those tender or tragic things, which can -really make a sleeper awaken with the sense that his heart has been -broken in his sleep. They tend continually to hover over certain -passionate themes of meeting and parting, of a life that ends in death -or a death that is the beginning of life. Demeter wanders over a -stricken world looking for a stolen child; Isis stretches out her arms -over the earth in vain to gather the limbs of Osiris; and there is -lamentation upon the hills for Atys and through the woods for Adonis. -There mingles with all such mourning the mystical and profound sense -that death can be a deliverer and an appeasement; that such death gives -us a divine blood for a renovating river and that all good is found in -gathering the broken body of the god. We may truly call these -foreshadowings; so long as we remember that foreshadowings are shadows. -And the metaphor of a shadow happens to hit very exactly the truth that -is very vital here. For a shadow is a shape; a thing which reproduces -shape but not texture. These things were something _like_ the real -thing; and to say that they were like is to say that they were -different. Saying something is like a dog is another way of saying it is -not a dog; and it is in this sense of identity that a myth is not a man. -Nobody really thought of Isis as a human being; nobody really thought of -Demeter as a historical character; nobody thought of Adonis as the -founder of a Church. There was no idea that any one of them had changed -the world; but rather that their recurrent death and life bore the sad -and beautiful burden of the changelessness of the world. Not one of them -was a revolution, save in the sense of the revolution of the sun and -moon. Their whole meaning is missed if we do not see that they mean the -shadows that we are and the shadows that we pursue. In certain -sacrificial and communal aspects they naturally suggest what sort of a -god might satisfy men; but they do not profess to be satisfied. Any one -who says they do is a bad judge of poetry. - -Those who talk about Pagan Christs have less sympathy with Paganism than -with Christianity. Those who call these cults ‘religions,’ and ‘compare’ -them with the certitude and challenge of the Church have much less -appreciation than we have of what made heathenism human, or of why -classic literature is still something that hangs in the air like a song. -It is no very human tenderness for the hungry to prove that hunger is -the same as food. It is no very genial understanding of youth to argue -that hope destroys the need for happiness. And it is utterly unreal to -argue that these images in the mind, admired entirely in the abstract, -were even in the same world with a living man and a living polity that -were worshipped because they were concrete. We might as well say that a -boy playing at robbers is the same as a man in his first day in the -trenches; or that a boy’s first fancies about ‘the not impossible she’ -are the same as the sacrament of marriage. They are fundamentally -different exactly where they are superficially similar; we might almost -say they are not the same even when they are the same. They are only -different because one is real and the other is not. I do not mean merely -that I myself believe that one is true and the other is not. I mean that -one was never meant to be true in the same sense as the other. The sense -in which it was meant to be true I have tried to suggest vaguely here, -but it is undoubtedly very subtle and almost indescribable. It is so -subtle that the students who profess to put it up as a rival to our -religion miss the whole meaning and purport of their own study. We know -better than the scholars, even those of us who are no scholars, what was -in that hollow cry that went forth over the dead Adonis and why the -Great Mother had a daughter wedded to death. We have entered more deeply -than they into the Eleusinian Mysteries and have passed a higher grade, -where gate within gate guarded the wisdom of Orpheus. We know the -meaning of all the myths. We know the last secret revealed to the -perfect initiate. And it is not the voice of a priest or a prophet -saying, ‘These things are.’ It is the voice of a dreamer and an idealist -crying, ‘Why cannot these things be?’ - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -THE DEMONS AND THE PHILOSOPHERS - - -I have dwelt at some little length on this imaginative sort of paganism, -which has crowded the world with temples and is everywhere the parent of -popular festivity. For the central history of civilisation, as I see it, -consists of two further stages before the final stage of Christendom. -The first was the struggle between this paganism and something less -worthy than itself, and the second the process by which it grew in -itself less worthy. In this very varied and often very vague polytheism -there was a weakness of original sin. Pagan gods were depicted as -tossing men like dice; and indeed they are loaded dice. About sex -especially men are born unbalanced; we might almost say men are born -mad. They scarcely reach sanity till they reach sanctity. This -disproportion dragged down the winged fancies; and filled the end of -paganism with a mere filth and litter of spawning gods. But the first -point to realise is that this sort of paganism had an early collision -with another sort of paganism; and that the issue of that essentially -spiritual struggle really determined the history of the world. In order -to understand it we must pass to a review of the other kind of paganism. -It can be considered much more briefly; indeed, there is a very real -sense in which the less that is said about it the better. If we have -called the first sort of mythology the day-dream, we might very well -call the second sort of mythology the nightmare. - -Superstition recurs in all ages, and especially in rationalistic ages. I -remember defending the religious tradition against a whole -luncheon-table of distinguished agnostics; and before the end of our -conversation every one of them had procured from his pocket, or -exhibited on his watch-chain, some charm or talisman from which he -admitted that he was never separated. I was the only person present who -had neglected to provide himself with a fetish. Superstition recurs in a -rationalist age because it rests on something which, if not identical -with rationalism, is not unconnected with scepticism. It is at least -very closely connected with agnosticism. It rests on something that is -really a very human and intelligible sentiment, like the local -invocations of the _numen_ in popular paganism. But it is an agnostic -sentiment, for it rests on two feelings: first that we do not really -know the laws of the universe; and second that they may be very -different from all that we call reason. Such men realise the real truth -that enormous things do often turn upon tiny things. When a whisper -comes, from tradition or what not, that one particular tiny thing is the -key or clue, something deep and not altogether senseless in human nature -tells them that it is not unlikely. This feeling exists in both the -forms of paganism here under consideration. But when we come to the -second form of it, we find it transformed and filled with another and -more terrible spirit. - -In dealing with the lighter thing called mythology, I have said little -about the most disputable aspect of it; the extent to which such -invocation of the spirits of the sea or the elements can indeed call -spirits from the vasty deep; or rather (as the Shakespearean scoffer put -it) whether the spirits come when they are called. I believe that I am -right in thinking that this problem, practical as it sounds, did not -play a dominant part in the poetical business of mythology. But I think -it even more obvious, on the evidence, that things of that sort have -sometimes appeared, even if they were only appearances. But when we -come to the world of superstition, in a more subtle sense, there is a -shade of difference; a deepening and a darkening shade. Doubtless most -popular superstition is as frivolous as any popular mythology. Men do -not believe as a dogma that God would throw a thunderbolt at them for -walking under a ladder; more often they amuse themselves with the not -very laborious exercise of walking round it. There is no more in it than -what I have already adumbrated; a sort of airy agnosticism about the -possibilities of so strange a world. But there is another sort of -superstition that does definitely look for results; what might be called -a realistic superstition. And with that the question of whether spirits -do answer or do appear becomes much more serious. As I have said, it -seems to me pretty certain that they sometimes do; but about that there -is a distinction that has been the beginning of much evil in the world. - -Whether it be because the Fall has really brought men nearer to less -desirable neighbours in the spiritual world, or whether it is merely -that the mood of men eager or greedy finds it easier to imagine evil, I -believe that the black magic of witchcraft has been much more practical -and much less poetical than the white magic of mythology. I fancy the -garden of the witch has been kept much more carefully than the woodland -of the nymph. I fancy the evil field has even been more fruitful than -the good. To start with, some impulse, perhaps a sort of desperate -impulse, drove men to the darker powers when dealing with practical -problems. There was a sort of secret and perverse feeling that the -darker powers would really do things; that they had no nonsense about -them. And indeed that popular phrase exactly expresses the point. The -gods of mere mythology had a great deal of nonsense about them. They had -a great deal of good nonsense about them; in the happy and hilarious -sense in which we talk of the nonsense of Jabberwocky or the Land where -the Jumblies live. But the man consulting a demon felt as many a man -has felt in consulting a detective, especially a private detective: that -it was dirty work but the work would really be done. A man did not -exactly go into the wood to meet a nymph; he rather went with the hope -of meeting a nymph. It was an adventure rather than an assignation. But -the devil really kept his appointments and even in one sense kept his -promises; even if a man sometimes wished afterwards, like Macbeth, that -he had broken them. - -In the accounts given us of many rude or savage races we gather that the -cult of demons often came after the cult of deities, and even after the -cult of one single and supreme deity. It may be suspected that in almost -all such places the higher deity is felt to be too far off for appeal in -certain petty matters, and men invoke the spirits because they are in a -more literal sense familiar spirits. But with the idea of employing the -demons who get things done, a new idea appears more worthy of the -demons. It may indeed be truly described as the idea of being worthy of -the demons; of making oneself fit for their fastidious and exacting -society. Superstition of the lighter sort toys with the idea that some -trifle, some small gesture such as throwing the salt, may touch the -hidden spring that works the mysterious machinery of the world. And -there is after all something in the idea of such an Open Sesame. But -with the appeal to lower spirits comes the horrible notion that the -gesture must not only be very small but very low; that it must be a -monkey trick of an utterly ugly and unworthy sort. Sooner or later a man -deliberately sets himself to do the most disgusting thing he can think -of. It is felt that the extreme of evil will extort a sort of attention -or answer from the evil powers under the surface of the world. This is -the meaning of most of the cannibalism in the world. For most -cannibalism is not a primitive or even a bestial habit. It is -artificial and even artistic; a sort of art for art’s sake. Men do not -do it because they do not think it horrible; but, on the contrary, -because they do think it horrible. They wish, in the most literal sense, -to sup on horrors. That is why it is often found that rude races like -the Australian natives are not cannibals; while much more refined and -intelligent races, like the New Zealand Maories, occasionally are. They -are refined and intelligent enough to indulge sometimes in a -self-conscious diabolism. But if we could understand their minds, or -even really understand their language, we should probably find that they -were not acting as ignorant, that is as innocent cannibals. They are not -doing it because they do not think it wrong, but precisely because they -do think it wrong. They are acting like a Parisian decadent at a Black -Mass. But the Black Mass has to hide underground from the presence of -the real Mass. In other words, the demons have really been in hiding -since the coming of Christ on earth. The cannibalism of the higher -barbarians is in hiding from the civilisation of the white man. But -before Christendom, and especially outside Europe, this was not always -so. In the ancient world the demons often wandered abroad like dragons. -They could be positively and publicly enthroned as gods. Their enormous -images could be set up in public temples in the centre of populous -cities. And all over the world the traces can be found of this striking -and solid fact, so curiously overlooked by the moderns who speak of all -such evil as primitive and early in evolution, that as a matter of fact -some of the very highest civilisations of the world were the very places -where the horns of Satan were exalted, not only to the stars but in the -face of the sun. - -Take for example the Aztecs and American Indians of the ancient empires -of Mexico and Peru. They were at least as elaborate as Egypt or China -and only less lively than that central civilisation which is our own. -But those who criticise that central civilisation (which is always their -own civilisation) have a curious habit of not merely doing their -legitimate duty in condemning its crimes, but of going out of their way -to idealise its victims. They always assume that before the advent of -Europe there was nothing anywhere but Eden. And Swinburne, in that -spirited chorus of the nations in ‘Songs before Sunrise,’ used an -expression about Spain in her South American conquests which always -struck me as very strange. He said something about ‘her sins and sons -through sinless lands dispersed,’ and how they ‘made accursed the name -of man and thrice accursed the name of God.’ It may be reasonable enough -that he should say the Spaniards were sinful, but why in the world -should he say that the South Americans were sinless? Why should he have -supposed that continent to be exclusively populated by archangels or -saints perfect in heaven? It would be a strong thing to say of the most -respectable neighbourhood; but when we come to think of what we really -do know of that society the remark is rather funny. We know that the -sinless priests of this sinless people worshipped sinless gods, who -accepted as the nectar and ambrosia of their sunny paradise nothing but -incessant human sacrifice accompanied by horrible torments. We may note -also in the mythology of this American civilisation that element of -reversal or violence against instinct of which Dante wrote; which runs -backwards everywhere through the unnatural religion of the demons. It is -notable not only in ethics but in aesthetics. A South American idol was -made as ugly as possible, as a Greek image was made as beautiful as -possible. They were seeking the secret of power, by working backwards -against their own nature and the nature of things. There was always a -sort of yearning to carve at last, in gold or granite or the dark red -timber of the forests, a face at which the sky itself would break like a -cracked mirror. - -In any case it is clear enough that the painted and gilded civilisation -of tropical America systematically indulged in human sacrifice. It is by -no means clear, so far as I know, that the Eskimos ever indulged in -human sacrifice. They were not civilised enough. They were too closely -imprisoned by the white winter and the endless dark. Chill penury -repressed their noble rage and froze the genial current of the soul. It -was in brighter days and broader daylight that the noble rage is found -unmistakably raging. It was in richer and more instructed lands that the -genial current flowed on the altars, to be drunk by great gods wearing -goggling and grinning masks and called on in terror or torment by long -cacophonous names that sound like laughter in hell. A warmer climate and -a more scientific cultivation were needed to bring forth these blooms; -to draw up towards the sun the large leaves and flamboyant blossoms that -gave their gold and crimson and purple to that garden, which Swinburne -compares to the Hesperides. There was at least no doubt about the -dragon. - -I do not raise in this connection the special controversy about Spain -and Mexico; but I may remark in passing that it resembles exactly the -question that must in some sense be raised afterwards about Rome and -Carthage. In both cases there has been a queer habit among the English -of always siding against the Europeans, and representing the rival -civilisation, in Swinburne’s phrase, as sinless; when its sins were -obviously crying or rather screaming to heaven. For Carthage also was a -high civilisation, indeed a much more highly civilised civilisation. And -Carthage also founded that civilisation on a religion of fear, sending -up everywhere the smoke of human sacrifice. Now it is very right to -rebuke our own race or religion for falling short of our own standards -and ideals. But it is absurd to pretend that they fell lower than the -other races and religions that professed the very opposite standards and -ideals. There is a very real sense in which the Christian is worse than -the heathen, the Spaniard worse than the Red Indian, or even the Roman -potentially worse than the Carthaginian. But there is only one sense in -which he is worse; and that is not in being positively worse. The -Christian is only worse because it is his business to be better. - -This inverted imagination produces things of which it is better not to -speak. Some of them indeed might almost be named without being known; -for they are of that extreme evil which seems innocent to the innocent. -They are too inhuman even to be indecent. But without dwelling much -longer in these dark corners, it may be noted as not irrelevant here -that certain anti-human antagonisms seem to recur in this tradition of -black magic. There may be suspected as running through it everywhere, -for instance, a mystical hatred of the idea of childhood. People would -understand better the popular fury against the witches, if they -remembered that the malice most commonly attributed to them was -preventing the birth of children. The Hebrew prophets were perpetually -protesting against the Hebrew race relapsing into an idolatry that -involved such a war upon children; and it is probable enough that this -abominable apostasy from the God of Israel has occasionally appeared in -Israel since, in the form of what is called ritual murder; not of course -by any representative of the religion of Judaism, but by individual and -irresponsible diabolists who did happen to be Jews. This sense that the -forces of evil especially threaten childhood is found again in the -enormous popularity of the Child Martyr of the Middle Ages. Chaucer did -but give another version of a very national English legend, when he -conceived the wickedest of all possible witches as the dark alien woman -watching behind her high lattice and hearing, like the babble of a brook -down the stony street, the singing of little St. Hugh. - -Anyhow the part of such speculations that concerns this story centred -especially round that eastern end of the Mediterranean where the nomads -had turned gradually into traders and had begun to trade with the whole -world. Indeed in the sense of trade and travel and colonial extension, -it already had something like an empire of the whole world. Its purple -dye, the emblem of its rich pomp and luxury, had steeped the wares which -were sold far away amid the last crags of Cornwall and the sails that -entered the silence of tropic seas amid all the mystery of Africa. It -might be said truly to have painted the map purple. It was already a -world-wide success, when the princes of Tyre would hardly have troubled -to notice that one of their princesses had condescended to marry the -chief of some tribe called Judah; when the merchants of its African -outpost would only have curled their bearded and Semitic lips with a -slight smile at the mention of a village called Rome. And indeed no two -things could have seemed more distant from each other, not only in space -but in spirit, than the monotheism of the Palestinian tribe and the very -virtues of the small Italian republic. There was but one thing between -them; and the thing which divided them has united them. Very various and -incompatible were the things that could be loved by the consuls of Rome -and the prophets of Israel; but they were at one in what they hated. It -is very easy in both cases to represent that hatred as something merely -hateful. It is easy enough to make a merely harsh and inhuman figure -either of Elijah raving above the slaughter of Carmel or Cato thundering -against the amnesty of Africa. These men had their limitations and their -local passions; but this criticism of them is unimaginative and -therefore unreal. It leaves out something, something immense and -intermediate, facing east and west and calling up this passion in its -eastern and western enemies; and that something is the first subject of -this chapter. - -The civilisation that centred in Tyre and Sidon was above all things -practical. It has left little in the way of art and nothing in the way -of poetry. But it prided itself upon being very efficient; and it -followed in its philosophy and religion that strange and sometimes -secret train of thought which we have already noted in those who look -for immediate effects. There is always in such a mentality an idea that -there is a short cut to the secret of all success; something that would -shock the world by this sort of shameless thoroughness. They believed, -in the appropriate modern phrase, in people who delivered the goods. In -their dealings with their god Moloch, they themselves were always -careful to deliver the goods. It was an interesting transaction, upon -which we shall have to touch more than once in the rest of the -narrative; it is enough to say here that it involved the theory I have -suggested about a certain attitude towards children. This was what -called up against it in simultaneous fury the servant of one God in -Palestine and the guardians of all the household gods in Rome. This is -what challenged two things naturally so much divided by every sort of -distance and disunion, whose union was to save the world. - -I have called the fourth and final division of the spiritual elements -into which I should divide heathen humanity by the name of The -Philosophers. I confess that it covers in my mind much that would -generally be classified otherwise; and that what are here called -philosophies are very often called religions. I believe however that my -own description will be found to be much the more realistic and not the -less respectful. But we must first take philosophy in its purest and -clearest form that we may trace its normal outline; and that is to be -found in the world of the purest and clearest outlines, that culture of -the Mediterranean of which we have been considering the mythologies and -idolatries in the last two chapters. - -Polytheism, or that aspect of paganism, was never to the pagan what -Catholicism is to the Catholic. It was never a view of the universe -satisfying all sides of life; a complete and complex truth with -something to say about everything. It was only a satisfaction of one -side of the soul of man, even if we call it the religious side; and I -think it is truer to call it the imaginative side. But this it did -satisfy; in the end it satisfied it to satiety. All that world was a -tissue of interwoven tales and cults, and there ran in and out of it, as -we have already seen, that black thread among its more blameless -colours: the darker paganism that was really diabolism. But we all know -that this did not mean that all pagan men thought of nothing but pagan -gods. Precisely because mythology only satisfied one mood, they turned -in other moods to something totally different. But it is very important -to realise that it was totally different. It was too different to be -inconsistent. It was so alien that it did not clash. While a mob of -people were pouring on a public holiday to the feast of Adonis or the -games in honour of Apollo, this or that man would prefer to stop at home -and think out a little theory about the nature of things. Sometimes his -hobby would even take the form of thinking about the nature of God; or -even in that sense about the nature of the gods. But he very seldom -thought of pitting his nature of the gods against the gods of nature. - -It is necessary to insist on this abstraction in the first student of -abstractions. He was not so much antagonistic as absent-minded. His -hobby might be the universe; but at first the hobby was as private as if -it had been numismatics or playing draughts. And even when his wisdom -came to be a public possession, and almost a political institution, it -was very seldom on the same plane as the popular and religious -institutions. Aristotle, with his colossal common sense, was perhaps the -greatest of all philosophers; certainly the most practical of all -philosophers. But Aristotle would no more have set up the Absolute side -by side with the Apollo of Delphi, as a similar or rival religion, than -Archimedes would have thought of setting up the Lever as a sort of idol -or fetish to be substituted for the Palladium of the city. Or we might -as well imagine Euclid building an altar to an isosceles triangle, or -offering sacrifices to the square on the hypotenuse. The one man -meditated on metaphysics as the other man did on mathematics; for the -love of truth or for curiosity or for the fun of the thing. But that -sort of fun never seems to have interfered very much with the other sort -of fun; the fun of dancing or singing to celebrate some rascally romance -about Zeus becoming a bull or a swan. It is perhaps the proof of a -certain superficiality and even insincerity about the popular -polytheism, that men could be philosophers and even sceptics without -disturbing it. These thinkers could move the foundations of the world -without altering even the outline of that coloured cloud that hung above -it in the air. - -For the thinkers did move the foundations of the world; even when a -curious compromise seemed to prevent them from moving the foundations of -the city. The two great philosophers of antiquity do indeed appear to us -as defenders of sane and even of sacred ideas; their maxims often read -like the answers to sceptical questions too completely answered to be -always recorded. Aristotle annihilated a hundred anarchists and -nature-worshipping cranks by the fundamental statement that man is a -political animal. Plato in some sense anticipated the Catholic realism, -as attacked by the heretical nominalism, by insisting on the equally -fundamental fact that ideas are realities; that ideas exist just as men -exist. Plato however seemed sometimes almost to fancy that ideas exist -as men do not exist; or that the men need hardly be considered where -they conflict with the ideas. He had something of the social sentiment -that we call Fabian in his ideal of fitting the citizen to the city, -like an imaginary head to an ideal hat; and great and glorious as he -remains, he has been the father of all faddists. Aristotle anticipated -more fully the sacramental sanity that was to combine the body and the -soul of things; for he considered the nature of men as well as the -nature of morals, and looked to the eyes as well as to the light. But -though these great men were in that sense constructive and conservative, -they belonged to a world where thought was free to the point of being -fanciful. Many other great intellects did indeed follow them, some -exalting an abstract vision of virtue, others following more -rationalistically the necessity of the human pursuit of happiness. The -former had the name of Stoics; and their name has passed into a proverb -for what is indeed one of the main moral ideals of mankind: that of -strengthening the mind itself until it is of a texture to resist -calamity or even pain. But it is admitted that a great number of the -philosophers degenerated into what we still call sophists. They became a -sort of professional sceptics who went about asking uncomfortable -questions, and were handsomely paid for making themselves a nuisance to -normal people. It was perhaps an accidental resemblance to such -questioning quacks that was responsible for the unpopularity of the -great Socrates; whose death might seem to contradict the suggestion of -the permanent truce between the philosophers and the gods. But Socrates -did not die as a monotheist who denounced polytheism; certainly not as a -prophet who denounced idols. It is clear to any one reading between the -lines that there was some notion, right or wrong, of a purely personal -influence affecting morals and perhaps politics. The general compromise -remained; whether it was that the Greeks thought their myths a joke or -that they thought their theories a joke. There was never any collision -in which one really destroyed the other, and there was never any -combination in which one was really reconciled with the other. They -certainly did not work together; if anything the philosopher was a -rival of the priest. But both seemed to have accepted a sort of -separation of functions and remained parts of the same social system. -Another important tradition descends from Pythagoras; who is significant -because he stands nearest to the Oriental mystics who must be considered -in their turn. He taught a sort of mysticism of mathematics, that number -is the ultimate reality; but he also seems to have taught the -transmigration of souls like the Brahmins; and to have left to his -followers certain traditional tricks of vegetarianism and water-drinking -very common among the eastern sages, especially those who figure in -fashionable drawing-rooms, like those of the later Roman Empire. But in -passing to eastern sages, and the somewhat different atmosphere of the -East, we may approach a rather important truth by another path. - -One of the great philosophers said that it would be well if philosophers -were kings, or kings were philosophers. He spoke as of something too -good to be true; but, as a matter of fact, it not unfrequently was true. -A certain type, perhaps too little noticed in history, may really be -called the royal philosopher. To begin with, apart from actual royalty, -it did occasionally become possible for the sage, though he was not what -we call a religious founder, to be something like a political founder. -And the great example of this, one of the very greatest in the world, -will with the very thought of it carry us thousands of miles across the -vast spaces of Asia to that very wonderful and in some ways that very -wise world of ideas and institutions, which we dismiss somewhat cheaply -when we talk of China. Men have served many very strange gods; and -trusted themselves loyally to many ideals and even idols. China is a -society that has really chosen to believe in intellect. It has taken -intellect seriously; and it may be that it stands alone in the world. -From a very early age it faced the dilemma of the king and the -philosopher by actually appointing a philosopher to advise the king. It -made a public institution out of a private individual, who had nothing -in the world to do but to be intellectual. It had and has, of course, -many other things on the same pattern. It creates all ranks and -privileges by public examination; it has nothing that we call an -aristocracy; it is a democracy dominated by an intelligentsia. But the -point here is that it had philosophers to advise kings; and one of those -philosophers must have been a great philosopher and a great statesman. - -Confucius was not a religious founder or even a religious teacher; -possibly not even a religious man. He was not an atheist; he was -apparently what we call an agnostic. But the really vital point is that -it is utterly irrelevant to talk about his religion at all. It is like -talking of theology as the first thing in the story of how Rowland Hill -established the postal system or Baden Powell organised the Boy Scouts. -Confucius was not there to bring a message from heaven to humanity, but -to organise China; and he must have organised it exceedingly well. It -follows that he dealt much with morals; but he bound them up strictly -with manners. The peculiarity of his scheme, and of his country, in -which it contrasts with its great pendant the system of Christendom, is -that he insisted on perpetuating an external life with all its forms, -that outward continuity might preserve internal peace. Any one who knows -how much habit has to do with health, of mind as well as body, will see -the truth in his idea. But he will also see that the ancestor-worship -and the reverence for the Sacred Emperor were habits and not creeds. It -is unfair to the great Confucius to say he was a religious founder. It -is even unfair to him to say he was not a religious founder. It is as -unfair as going out of one’s way to say that Jeremy Bentham was not a -Christian martyr. - -But there is a class of most interesting cases in which philosophers -were kings, and not merely the friends of kings. The combination is not -accidental. It has a great deal to do with this rather elusive question -of the function of the philosopher. It contains in it some hint of why -philosophy and mythology seldom came to an open rupture. It was not only -because there was something a little frivolous about the mythology. It -was also because there was something a little supercilious about the -philosopher. He despised the myths, but he also despised the mob; and -thought they suited each other. The pagan philosopher was seldom a man -of the people, at any rate in spirit; he was seldom a democrat and often -a bitter critic of democracy. He had about him an air of aristocratic -and humane leisure; and his part was most easily played by men who -happened to be in such a position. It was very easy and natural for a -prince or a prominent person to play at being as philosophical as -Hamlet, or Theseus in the _Midsummer Night’s Dream_. And from very early -ages we find ourselves in the presence of these princely intellectuals. -In fact, we find one of them in the very first recorded ages of the -world; sitting on that primeval throne that looked over ancient Egypt. - -The most intense interest of the incident of Akhenaten, commonly called -the Heretic Pharaoh, lies in the fact that he was the one example, at -any rate before Christian times, of one of these royal philosophers who -set himself to fight popular mythology in the name of private -philosophy. Most of them assumed the attitude of Marcus Aurelius, who is -in many ways the model of this sort of monarch and sage. Marcus Aurelius -has been blamed for tolerating the pagan amphitheatre or the Christian -martyrdoms. But it was characteristic; for this sort of man really -thought of popular religion just as he thought of popular circuses. Of -him Professor Phillimore has profoundly said ‘a great and good man--and -he knew it.’ The Heretic Pharaoh had a philosophy more earnest and -perhaps more humble. For there is a corollary to the conception of being -too proud to fight. It is that the humble have to do most of the -fighting. Anyhow, the Egyptian prince was simple enough to take his own -philosophy seriously, and alone among such intellectual princes he -affected a sort of _coup d’état_; hurling down the high gods of Egypt -with one imperial gesture and lifting up for all men, like a blazing -mirror of monotheistic truth, the disc of the universal sun. He had -other interesting ideas often to be found in such idealists. In the -sense in which we speak of a Little Englander he was a Little Egypter. -In art he was a realist because he was an idealist; for realism is more -impossible than any other ideal. But after all there falls on him -something of the shadow of Marcus Aurelius; stalked by the shadow of -Professor Phillimore. What is the matter with this noble sort of prince -is that he has nowhere quite escaped being something of a prig. -Priggishness is so pungent a smell that it clings amid the faded spices -even to an Egyptian mummy. What was the matter with the Heretic Pharaoh, -as with a good many other heretics, was that he probably never paused to -ask himself whether there was _anything_ in the popular beliefs and -tales of people less educated than himself. And, as already suggested, -there was something in them. There was a real human hunger in all that -element of feature and locality, that procession of deities like -enormous pet animals, in that unwearied watching at certain haunted -spots, in all the mazy wandering of mythology. Nature may not have the -name of Isis; Isis may not be really looking for Osiris. But it is true -that Nature is really looking for something. Nature is always looking -for the supernatural. Something much more definite was to satisfy that -need; but a dignified monarch with a disc of the sun did not satisfy it. -The royal experiment failed amid a roaring reaction of popular -superstitions, in which the priests rose on the shoulders of the people -and ascended the throne of the kings. - -The next great example I shall take of the princely sage is Gautama, the -great Lord Buddha. I know he is not generally classed merely with the -philosophers; but I am more and more convinced, from all information -that reaches me, that this is the real interpretation of his immense -importance. He was by far the greatest and the best of these -intellectuals born in the purple. His reaction was perhaps the noblest -and most sincere of all the resultant actions of that combination of -thinkers and of thrones. For his reaction was renunciation. Marcus -Aurelius was content to say, with a refined irony, that even in a palace -life could be lived well. The fierier Egyptian king concluded that it -could be lived even better after a palace revolution. But the great -Gautama was the only one of them who proved he could really do without -his palace. One fell back on toleration and the other on revolution. But -after all there is something more absolute about abdication. Abdication -is perhaps the one really absolute action of an absolute monarch. The -Indian prince, reared in Oriental luxury and pomp, deliberately went out -and lived the life of a beggar. That is magnificent, but it is not war; -that is, it is not necessarily a Crusade in the Christian sense. It does -not decide the question of whether the life of a beggar was the life of -a saint or the life of a philosopher. It does not decide whether this -great man is really to go into the tub of Diogenes or the cave of St. -Jerome. Now those who seem to be nearest to the study of Buddha, and -certainly those who write most clearly and intelligently about him, -convince me for one that he was simply a philosopher who founded a -successful school of philosophy, and was turned into a sort of _divus_ -or sacred being merely by the more mysterious and unscientific -atmosphere of all such traditions in Asia. So that it is necessary to -say at this point a word about that invisible yet vivid border-line -that we cross in passing from the Mediterranean into the mystery of the -East. - -Perhaps there are no things out of which we get so little of the truth -as the truisms; especially when they are really true. We are all in the -habit of saying certain things about Asia, which are true enough but -which hardly help us because we do not understand their truth; as that -Asia is old or looks to the past or is not progressive. Now it is true -that Christendom is more progressive, in a sense that has very little to -do with the rather provincial notion of an endless fuss of political -improvement. Christendom does believe, for Christianity does believe, -that man can eventually get somewhere, here or hereafter, or in various -ways according to various doctrines. The world’s desire can somehow be -satisfied as desires are satisfied, whether by a new life or an old love -or some form of positive possession and fulfilment. For the rest, we all -know there is a rhythm and not a mere progress in things, that things -rise and fall; only with us the rhythm is a fairly free and incalculable -rhythm. For most of Asia the rhythm has hardened into a recurrence. It -is no longer merely a rather topsy-turvy sort of world; it is a wheel. -What has happened to all those highly intelligent and highly civilised -peoples is that they have been caught up in a sort of cosmic rotation, -of which the hollow hub is really nothing. In that sense the worst part -of existence is that it may just as well go on like that for ever. That -is what we really mean when we say that Asia is old or unprogressive or -looking backwards. That is why we see even her curved swords as arcs -broken from that blinding wheel; why we see her serpentine ornament as -returning everywhere, like a snake that is never slain. It has very -little to do with the political varnish of progress; all Asiatics might -have tophats on their heads, but if they had this spirit still in their -hearts they would only think the hats would vanish and come round again -like the planets; not that running after a hat could lead them to heaven -or even to home. - -Now when the genius of Buddha arose to deal with the matter, this sort -of cosmic sentiment was already common to almost everything in the East. -There was indeed the jungle of an extraordinarily extravagant and almost -asphyxiating mythology. Nevertheless it is possible to have more -sympathy with this popular fruitfulness in folk-lore than with some of -the higher pessimism that might have withered it. It must always be -remembered, however, when all fair allowances are made, that a great -deal of spontaneous eastern imagery really is idolatry; the local and -literal worship of an idol. This is probably not true of the ancient -Brahminical system, at least as seen by Brahmins. But that phrase alone -will remind us of a reality of much greater moment. This great reality -is the Caste System of ancient India. It may have had some of the -practical advantages of the Guild System of Medieval Europe. But it -contrasts not only with that Christian democracy, but with every extreme -type of Christian aristocracy, in the fact that it does really conceive -the social superiority as a spiritual superiority. This not only divides -it fundamentally from the fraternity of Christendom, but leaves it -standing like a mighty and terraced mountain of pride between the -relatively egalitarian levels both of Islam and of China. But the fixity -of this formation through thousands of years is another illustration of -that spirit of repetition that has marked time from time immemorial. Now -we may also presume the prevalence of another idea which we associate -with the Buddhists as interpreted by the Theosophists. As a fact, some -of the strictest Buddhists repudiate the idea and still more scornfully -repudiate the Theosophists. But whether the idea is in Buddhism, or only -in the birthplace of Buddhism, or only in a tradition or a travesty of -Buddhism, it is an idea entirely proper to this principle of -recurrence. I mean of course the idea of Reincarnation. - -But Reincarnation is not really a mystical idea. It is not really a -transcendental idea, or in that sense a religious idea. Mysticism -conceives something transcending experience; religion seeks glimpses of -a better good or a worse evil than experience can give. Reincarnation -need only extend experiences in the sense of repeating them. It is no -more transcendental for a man to remember what he did in Babylon before -he was born than to remember what he did in Brixton before he had a -knock on the head. His successive lives _need_ not be any more than -human lives, under whatever limitations burden human life. It has -nothing to do with seeing God or even conjuring up the devil. In other -words, reincarnation as such does not necessarily escape from the wheel -of destiny; in some sense it is the wheel of destiny. And whether it was -something that Buddha founded, or something that Buddha found, or -something that Buddha entirely renounced when he found, it is certainly -something having the general character of that Asiatic atmosphere in -which he had to play his part. And the part he played was that of an -intellectual philosopher, with a particular theory about the right -intellectual attitude towards it. - -I can understand that Buddhists might resent the view that Buddhism is -merely a philosophy, if we understand by a philosophy merely an -intellectual game such as Greek sophists played, tossing up worlds and -catching them like balls. Perhaps a more exact statement would be that -Buddha was a man who made a metaphysical discipline; which might even be -called a psychological discipline. He proposed a way of escaping from -all this recurrent sorrow; and that was simply by getting rid of the -delusion that is called desire. It was emphatically _not_ that we should -get what we want better by restraining our impatience for part of it, or -that we should get it in a better way or in a better world. It was -emphatically that we should leave off wanting it. If once a man realised -that there is really no reality, that everything, including his soul, is -in dissolution at every instant, he would anticipate disappointment and -be intangible to change, existing (in so far as he could be said to -exist) in a sort of ecstasy of indifference. The Buddhists call this -beatitude, and we will not stop our story to argue the point; certainly -to us it is indistinguishable from despair. I do not see, for instance, -why the disappointment of desire should not apply as much to the most -benevolent desires as to the most selfish ones. Indeed the Lord of -Compassion seems to pity people for living rather than for dying. For -the rest, an intelligent Buddhist wrote, ‘The explanation of popular -Chinese and Japanese Buddhism is that it is not Buddhism.’ _That_ has -doubtless ceased to be a mere philosophy, but only by becoming a mere -mythology. One thing is certain: it has never become anything remotely -resembling what we call a Church. - -It will appear only a jest to say that all religious history has really -been a pattern of noughts and crosses. But I do not by noughts mean -nothings, but only things that are negative compared with the positive -shape or pattern of the other. And though the symbol is of course only a -coincidence, it is a coincidence that really does coincide. The mind of -Asia can really be represented by a round O, if not in the sense of a -cypher at least of a circle. The great Asiatic symbol of a serpent with -its tail in its mouth is really a very perfect image of a certain idea -of unity and recurrence that does indeed belong to the Eastern -philosophies and religions. It really is a curve that in one sense -includes everything, and in another sense comes to nothing. In that -sense it does confess, or rather boast, that all argument is an argument -in a circle. And though the figure is but a symbol, we can see how sound -is the symbolic sense that produces it, the parallel symbol of the -Wheel of Buddha generally called the Swastika. The cross is a thing at -right angles pointing boldly in opposite directions; but the Swastika is -the same thing in the very act of returning to the recurrent curve. That -crooked cross is in fact a cross turning into a wheel. Before we dismiss -even these symbols as if they were arbitrary symbols, we must remember -how intense was the imaginative instinct that produced them or selected -them both in the East and the West. The cross has become something more -than a historical memory; it does convey, almost as by a mathematical -diagram, the truth about the real point at issue; the idea of a conflict -stretching outwards into eternity. It is true, and even tautological, to -say that the cross is the crux of the whole matter. - -In other words, the cross, in fact as well as figure, does really stand -for the idea of breaking out of the circle that is everything and -nothing. It does escape from the circular argument by which everything -begins and ends in the mind. Since we are still dealing in symbols, it -might be put in a parable in the form of that story about St. Francis, -which says that the birds departing with his benediction could wing -their way into the infinities of the four winds of heaven, their tracks -making a vast cross upon the sky; for compared with the freedom of that -flight of birds, the very shape of the Swastika is like a kitten chasing -its tail. In a more popular allegory, we might say that when St. George -thrust his spear into the monster’s jaws, he broke in upon the solitude -of the self-devouring serpent and gave it something to bite besides its -own tail. But while many fancies might be used as figures of the truth, -the truth itself is abstract and absolute; though it is not very easy to -sum up except by such figures. Christianity does appeal to a solid truth -outside itself; to something which is in that sense external as well as -eternal. It does declare that things are really there; or in other -words that things are really things. In this Christianity is at one with -common sense; but all religious history shows that this common sense -perishes except where there is Christianity to preserve it. - -It cannot otherwise exist, or at least endure, because mere thought does -not remain sane. In a sense it becomes too simple to be sane. The -temptation of the philosophers is simplicity rather than subtlety. They -are always attracted by insane simplifications, as men poised above -abysses are fascinated by death and nothingness and the empty air. It -needed another kind of philosopher to stand poised upon the pinnacle of -the Temple and keep his balance without casting himself down. One of -these obvious, these too obvious explanations is that everything is a -dream and a delusion and there is nothing outside the ego. Another is -that all things recur; another, which is said to be Buddhist and is -certainly Oriental, is the idea that what is the matter with us is our -creation, in the sense of our coloured differentiation and personality, -and that nothing will be well till we are again melted into one unity. -By this theory, in short, the Creation was the Fall. It is important -historically because it was stored up in the dark heart of Asia and went -forth at various times in various forms over the dim borders of Europe. -Here we can place the mysterious figure of Manes or Manichaeus, the -mystic of inversion, whom we should call a pessimist, parent of many -sects and heresies; here, in a higher place, the figure of Zoroaster. He -has been popularly identified with another of these too simple -explanations: the equality of evil and good, balanced and battling in -every atom. He also is of the school of sages that may be called -mystics; and from the same mysterious Persian garden came upon ponderous -wings Mithras, the unknown god, to trouble the last twilight of Rome. - -That circle or disc of the sun set up in the morning of the world by -the remote Egyptian has been a mirror and a model for all the -philosophers. They have made many things out of it, and sometimes gone -mad about it, especially when as in these eastern sages the circle -became a wheel going round and round in their heads. But the point about -them is that they all think that existence can be represented by a -diagram instead of a drawing; and the rude drawings of the childish -myth-makers are a sort of crude and spirited protest against that view. -They cannot believe that religion is really not a pattern but a picture. -Still less can they believe that it is a picture of something that -really exists outside our minds. Sometimes the philosopher paints the -disc all black and calls himself a pessimist; sometimes he paints it all -white and calls himself an optimist; sometimes he divides it exactly -into halves of black and white and calls himself a dualist, like those -Persian mystics to whom I wish there were space to do justice. None of -them could understand a thing that began to draw the proportions just as -if they were real proportions, disposed in the living fashion which the -mathematical draughtsman would call disproportionate. Like the first -artist in the cave, it revealed to incredulous eyes the suggestion of a -new purpose in what looked like a wildly crooked pattern; he seemed only -to be distorting his diagram, when he began for the first time in all -the ages to trace the lines of a form--and of a Face. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE WAR OF THE GODS AND DEMONS - - -The materialist theory of history, that all politics and ethics are the -expression of economics, is a very simple fallacy indeed. It consists -simply of confusing the necessary conditions of life with the normal -preoccupations of life, that are quite a different thing. It is like -saying that because a man can only walk about on two legs, therefore he -never walks about except to buy shoes and stockings. Man cannot live -without the two props of food and drink, which support him like two -legs; but to suggest that they have been the motives of all his -movements in history is like saying that the goal of all his military -marches or religious pilgrimages must have been the Golden Leg of Miss -Kilmansegg or the ideal and perfect leg of Sir Willoughby Patterne. But -it is such movements that make up the story of mankind, and without them -there would practically be no story at all. Cows may be purely economic, -in the sense that we cannot see that they do much beyond grazing and -seeking better grazing-grounds; and that is why a history of cows in -twelve volumes would not be very lively reading. Sheep and goats may be -pure economists in their external action at least; but that is why the -sheep has hardly been a hero of epic wars and empires thought worthy of -detailed narration; and even the more active quadruped has not inspired -a book for boys called Golden Deeds of Gallant Goats or any similar -title. But so far from the movements that make up the story of man being -economic, we may say that the story only begins where the motive of the -cows and sheep leaves off. It will be hard to maintain that the -Crusaders went from their homes into a howling wilderness because cows -go from a wilderness to a more comfortable grazing-ground. It will be -hard to maintain that the Arctic explorers went north with the same -material motive that made the swallows go south. And if you leave things -like all the religious wars and all the merely adventurous explorations -out of the human story, it will not only cease to be human at all but -cease to be a story at all. The outline of history is made of these -decisive curves and angles determined by the will of man. Economic -history would not even be history. - -But there is a deeper fallacy besides this obvious fact; that men need -not live for food merely because they cannot live without food. The -truth is that the thing most present to the mind of man is not the -economic machinery necessary to his existence, but rather that existence -itself; the world which he sees when he wakes every morning and the -nature of his general position in it. There is something that is nearer -to him than livelihood, and that is life. For once that he remembers -exactly what work produces his wages and exactly what wages produce his -meals, he reflects ten times that it is a fine day or it is a queer -world, or wonders whether life is worth living, or wonders whether -marriage is a failure, or is pleased and puzzled with his own children, -or remembers his own youth, or in any such fashion vaguely reviews the -mysterious lot of man. This is true of the majority even of the -wage-slaves of our morbid modern industrialism, which by its hideousness -and inhumanity has really forced the economic issue to the front. It is -immeasurably more true of the multitude of peasants or hunters or -fishers who make up the real mass of mankind. Even those dry pedants who -think that ethics depend on economics must admit that economics depend -on existence. And any number of normal doubts and day-dreams are about -existence; not about how we can live, but about why we do. And the proof -of it is simple; as simple as suicide. Turn the universe upside down in -the mind and you turn all the political economists upside down with it. -Suppose that a man wishes to die, and the professor of political economy -becomes rather a bore with his elaborate explanations of how he is to -live. And all the departures and decisions that make our human past into -a story have this character of diverting the direct course of pure -economics. As the economist may be excused from calculating the future -salary of a suicide, so he may be excused from providing an old-age -pension for a martyr. As he need not provide for the future of a martyr, -so he need not provide for the family of a monk. His plan is modified in -lesser and varying degrees by a man being a soldier and dying for his -own country, by a man being a peasant and specially loving his own land, -by a man being more or less affected by any religion that forbids or -allows him to do this or that. But all these come back not to an -economic calculation about livelihood but to an elemental outlook upon -life. They all come back to what a man fundamentally feels, when he -looks forth from those strange windows which we call the eyes, upon that -strange vision that we call the world. - -No wise man will wish to bring more long words into the world. But it -may be allowable to say that we need a new thing; which may be called -psychological history. I mean the consideration of what things meant in -the mind of a man, especially an ordinary man; as distinct from what is -defined or deduced merely from official forms or political -pronouncements. I have already touched on it in such a case as the totem -or indeed any other popular myth. It is not enough to be told that a -tom-cat was called a totem; especially when it was not called a totem. -We want to know what it felt like. Was it like Whittington’s cat or like -a witch’s cat? Was its real name Pasht or Puss-In-Boots? That is the -sort of thing we need touching the nature of political and social -relations. We want to know the real sentiment that was the social bond -of many common men, as sane and as selfish as we are. What did soldiers -feel when they saw splendid in the sky that strange totem that we call -the Golden Eagle of the Legions? What did vassals feel about those other -totems, the lions or the leopards upon the shield of their lord? So long -as we neglect this subjective side of history, which may more simply be -called the inside of history, there will always be a certain limitation -on that science which can be better transcended by art. So long as the -historian cannot do that, fiction will be truer than fact. There will be -more reality in a novel; yes, even in a historical novel. - -In nothing is this new history needed so much as in the psychology of -war. Our history is stiff with official documents, public or private, -which tell us nothing of the thing itself. At the worst we only have the -official posters, which could not have been spontaneous precisely -because they were official. At the best we have only the secret -diplomacy, which could not have been popular precisely because it was -secret. Upon one or other of these is based the historical judgment -about the real reasons that sustained the struggle. Governments fight -for colonies or commercial rights; governments fight about harbours or -high tariffs; governments fight for a gold mine or a pearl fishery. It -seems sufficient to answer that governments do not fight at all. Why do -the fighters fight? What is the psychology that sustains the terrible -and wonderful thing called a war? Nobody who knows anything of soldiers -believes the silly notion of the dons, that millions of men can be ruled -by force. If they were all to slack, it would be impossible to punish -all the slackers. And the least little touch of slacking would lose a -whole campaign in half a day. What did men really feel about the -policy? If it be said that they accepted the policy from the politician, -what did they feel about the politician? If the vassals warred blindly -for their prince, what did those blind men see in their prince? - -There is something we all know which can only be rendered, in an -appropriate language, as _realpolitik_. As a matter of fact, it is an -almost insanely unreal politik. It is always stubbornly and stupidly -repeating that men fight for material ends, without reflecting for a -moment that the material ends are hardly ever material to the men who -fight. In any case, no man will die for practical politics, just as no -man will die for pay. Nero could not hire a hundred Christians to be -eaten by lions at a shilling an hour; for men will not be martyred for -money. But the vision called up by real politik, or realistic politics, -is beyond example crazy and incredible. Does anybody in the world -believe that a soldier says, ‘My leg is nearly dropping off, but I shall -go on till it drops; for after all I shall enjoy all the advantages of -my government obtaining a warm-water port in the Gulf of Finland.’ Can -anybody suppose that a clerk turned conscript says, ‘If I am gassed I -shall probably die in torments; but it is a comfort to reflect that -should I ever decide to become a pearl-diver in the South Seas, that -career is now open to me and my countrymen.’ Materialist history is the -most madly incredible of all histories, or even of all romances. -Whatever starts wars, the thing that sustains wars is something in the -soul; that is something akin to religion. It is what men feel about life -and about death. A man near to death is dealing directly with an -absolute; it is nonsense to say he is concerned only with relative and -remote complications that death in any case will end. If he is sustained -by certain loyalties, they must be loyalties as simple as death. They -are generally two ideas, which are only two sides of one idea. The first -is the love of something said to be threatened, if it be only vaguely -known as home; the second is dislike and defiance of some strange thing -that threatens it. The first is far more philosophical than it sounds, -though we need not discuss it here. A man does not want his national -home destroyed or even changed, because he cannot even remember all the -good things that go with it; just as he does not want his house burnt -down, because he can hardly count all the things he would miss. -Therefore he fights for what sounds like a hazy abstraction, but is -really a house. But the negative side of it is quite as noble as well as -quite as strong. Men fight hardest when they feel that the foe is at -once an old enemy and an eternal stranger, that his atmosphere is alien -and antagonistic; as the French feel about the Prussian or the Eastern -Christians about the Turk. If we say it is a difference of religion, -people will drift into dreary bickerings about sects and dogmas. We will -pity them and say it is a difference about death and daylight; a -difference that does really come like a dark shadow between our eyes and -the day. Men can think of this difference even at the point of death; -for it is a difference about the meaning of life. - -Men are moved in these things by something far higher and holier than -policy: by hatred. When men hung on in the darkest days of the Great -War, suffering either in their bodies or in their souls for those they -loved, they were long past caring about details of diplomatic objects as -motives for their refusal to surrender. Of myself and those I knew best -I can answer for the vision that made surrender impossible. It was the -vision of the German Emperor’s face as he rode into Paris. This is not -the sentiment which some of my idealistic friends describe as Love. I am -quite content to call it hatred; the hatred of hell and all its works, -and to agree that as they do not believe in hell they need not believe -in hatred. But in the face of this prevalent prejudice, this long -introduction has been unfortunately necessary, to ensure an -understanding of what is meant by a religious war. There is a religious -war when two worlds meet; that is, when two visions of the world meet; -or in more modern language, when two moral atmospheres meet. What is the -one man’s breath is the other man’s poison; and it is vain to talk of -giving a pestilence a place in the sun. And this is what we must -understand, even at the expense of digression, if we would see what -really happened in the Mediterranean; when right athwart the rising of -the Republic on the Tiber, a thing overtopping and disdaining it, dark -with all the riddles of Asia and trailing all the tribes and -dependencies of imperialism, came Carthage riding on the sea. - -The ancient religion of Italy was on the whole that mixture which we -have considered under the head of mythology; save that where the Greeks -had a natural turn for the mythology, the Latins seem to have had a real -turn for religion. Both multiplied gods, yet they sometimes seem to have -multiplied them for almost opposite reasons. It would seem sometimes as -if the Greek polytheism branched and blossomed upwards like the boughs -of a tree, while the Italian polytheism ramified downward like the -roots. Perhaps it would be truer to say that the former branches lifted -themselves lightly, bearing flowers; while the latter hung down, being -heavy with fruit. I mean that the Latins seem to multiply gods to bring -them nearer to men, while the Greek gods rose and radiated outwards into -the morning sky. What strikes us in the Italian cults is their local and -especially their domestic character. We gain the impression of -divinities swarming about the house like flies; of deities clustering -and clinging like bats about the pillars or building like birds under -the eaves. We have a vision of a god of roofs and a god of gateposts, of -a god of doors and even a god of drains. It has been suggested that all -mythology was a sort of fairy-tale; but this was a particular sort of -fairy-tale which may truly be called a fireside tale, or a nursery-tale; -because it was a tale of the interior of the home; like those which make -chairs and tables talk like elves. The old household gods of the Italian -peasants seem to have been great, clumsy, wooden images, more -featureless than the figure-head which Quilp battered with the poker. -This religion of the home was very homely. Of course there were other -less human elements in the tangle of Italian mythology. There were Greek -deities superimposed on the Roman; there were here and there uglier -things underneath, experiments in the cruel kind of paganism, like the -Arician rite of the priest slaying the slayer. But these things were -always potential in paganism; they are certainly not the peculiar -character of Latin paganism. The peculiarity of that may be roughly -covered by saying that if mythology personified the forces of nature, -this mythology personified nature as transformed by the forces of man. -It was the god of the corn and not of the grass, of the cattle and not -the wild things of the forest; in short, the cult was literally a -culture; as when we speak of it as agriculture. - -With this there was a paradox which is still for many the puzzle or -riddle of the Latins. With religion running through every domestic -detail like a climbing plant, there went what seems to many the very -opposite spirit: the spirit of revolt. Imperialists and reactionaries -often invoke Rome as the very model of order and obedience; but Rome was -the very reverse. The real history of ancient Rome is much more like the -history of modern Paris. It might be called in modern language a city -built out of barricades. It is said that the gate of Janus was never -closed because there was an eternal war without; it is almost as true -that there was an eternal revolution within. From the first Plebeian -riots to the last Servile Wars, the state that imposed peace on the -world was never really at peace. The rulers were themselves rebels. - -There is a real relation between this religion in private and this -revolution in public life. Stories none the less heroic for being -hackneyed remind us that the Republic was founded on a tyrannicide that -avenged an insult to a wife; that the Tribunes of the people were -re-established after another which avenged an insult to a daughter. The -truth is that only men to whom the family is sacred will ever have a -standard or a status by which to criticise the state. They alone can -appeal to something more holy than the gods of the city; the gods of the -hearth. That is why men are mystified in seeing that the same nations -that are thought rigid in domesticity are also thought restless in -politics; for instance, the Irish and the French. It is worth while to -dwell on this domestic point because it is an exact example of what is -meant here by the inside of history, like the inside of houses. Merely -political histories of Rome may be right enough in saying that this or -that was a cynical or cruel act of the Roman politicians; but the spirit -that lifted Rome from beneath was the spirit of all the Romans; and it -is not a cant to call it the ideal of Cincinnatus passing from the -senate to the plough. Men of that sort had strengthened their village on -every side, had extended its victories already over Italians and even -over Greeks, when they found themselves confronted with a war that -changed the world. I have called it here the war of the gods and demons. - -There was established on the opposite coast of the inland sea a city -that bore the name of the New Town. It was already much older, more -powerful, and more prosperous than the Italian town; but there still -remained about it an atmosphere that made the name not inappropriate. It -had been called new because it was a colony like New York or New -Zealand. It was an outpost or settlement of the energy and expansion of -the great commercial cities of Tyre and Sidon. There was a note of the -new countries and colonies about it; a confident and commercial outlook. -It was fond of saying things that rang with a certain metallic -assurance; as that nobody could wash his hands in the sea without the -leave of the New Town. For it depended almost entirely on the greatness -of its ships, as did the two great ports and markets from which its -people came. It brought from Tyre and Sidon a prodigious talent for -trade and considerable experience of travel. It brought other things as -well. - -In a previous chapter I have hinted at something of the psychology that -lies behind a certain type of religion. There was a tendency in those -hungry for practical results, apart from poetical results, to call upon -spirits of terror and compulsion; to move Acheron in despair of bending -the gods. There is always a sort of dim idea that these darker powers -will really do things, with no nonsense about it. In the interior -psychology of the Punic peoples this strange sort of pessimistic -practicality had grown to great proportions. In the New Town, which the -Romans called Carthage, as in the parent cities of Phoenicia, the god -who got things done bore the name of Moloch, who was perhaps identical -with the other deity whom we know as Baal, the Lord. The Romans did not -at first quite know what to call him or what to make of him; they had to -go back to the grossest myth of Greek or Roman origins and compare him -to Saturn devouring his children. But the worshippers of Moloch were not -gross or primitive. They were members of a mature and polished -civilisation, abounding in refinements and luxuries; they were probably -far more civilised than the Romans. And Moloch was not a myth; or at any -rate his meal was not a myth. These highly civilised people really met -together to invoke the blessing of heaven on their empire by throwing -hundreds of their infants into a large furnace. We can only realise the -combination by imagining a number of Manchester merchants with -chimney-pot hats and mutton-chop whiskers, going to church every Sunday -at eleven o’clock to see a baby roasted. - -The first stages of the political or commercial quarrel can be followed -in far too much detail, precisely because it is merely political or -commercial. The Punic Wars looked at one time as if they would never -end; and it is not easy to say when they ever began. The Greeks and the -Sicilians had already been fighting vaguely on the European side against -the African city. Carthage had defeated Greece and conquered Sicily. -Carthage had also planted herself firmly in Spain; and between Spain and -Sicily the Latin city was contained and would have been crushed; if the -Romans had been of the sort to be easily crushed. Yet the interest of -the story really consists in the fact that Rome was crushed. If there -had not been certain moral elements as well as the material elements, -the story would have ended where Carthage certainly thought it had -ended. It is common enough to blame Rome for not making peace. But it -was a true popular instinct that there could be no peace with that sort -of people. It is common enough to blame the Roman for his _Delenda est -Carthago_; Carthage must be destroyed. It is commoner to forget that, to -all appearance, Rome itself was destroyed. The sacred savour that hung -round Rome for ever, it is too often forgotten, clung to her partly -because she had risen suddenly from the dead. - -Carthage was an aristocracy, as are most of such mercantile states. The -pressure of the rich on the poor was impersonal as well as irresistible. -For such aristocracies never permit personal government, which is -perhaps why this one was jealous of personal talent. But genius can turn -up anywhere, even in a governing class. As if to make the world’s -supreme test as terrible as possible, it was ordained that one of the -great houses of Carthage should produce a man who came out of those -gilded palaces with all the energy and originality of Napoleon coming -from nowhere. At the worst crisis of the war, Rome learned that Italy -itself, by a military miracle, was invaded from the north. Hannibal, the -Grace of Baal as his name ran in his own tongue, had dragged a ponderous -chain of armaments over the starry solitudes of the Alps; and pointed -southward to the city which he had been pledged by all his dreadful gods -to destroy. - -Hannibal marched down the road to Rome, and the Romans who rushed to war -with him felt as if they were fighting with a magician. Two great armies -sank to right and left of him into the swamps of the Trebia; more and -more were sucked into the horrible whirlpool of Cannae; more and more -went forth only to fall in ruin at his touch. The supreme sign of all -disasters, which is treason, turned tribe after tribe against the -falling cause of Rome, and still the unconquerable enemy rolled nearer -and nearer to the city; and following their great leader the swelling -cosmopolitan army of Carthage passed like a pageant of the whole world; -the elephants shaking the earth like marching mountains and the gigantic -Gauls with their barbaric panoply and the dark Spaniards girt in gold -and the brown Numidians on their unbridled desert horses wheeling and -darting like hawks, and whole mobs of deserters and mercenaries and -miscellaneous peoples; and the Grace of Baal went before them. - -The Roman augurs and scribes who said in that hour that it brought forth -unearthly prodigies, that a child was born with the head of an elephant -or that stars fell down like hailstones, had a far more philosophical -grasp of what had really happened than the modern historian who can see -nothing in it but a success of strategy concluding a rivalry in -commerce. Something far different was felt at the time and on the spot, -as it is always felt by those who experience a foreign atmosphere -entering their own like a fog or a foul savour. It was no mere military -defeat, it was certainly no mere mercantile rivalry, that filled the -Roman imagination with such hideous omens of nature herself becoming -unnatural. It was Moloch upon the mountain of the Latins, looking with -his appalling face across the plain; it was Baal who trampled the -vineyards with his feet of stone; it was the voice of Tanit the -invisible, behind her trailing veils, whispering of the love that is -more horrible than hate. The burning of the Italian cornfields, the ruin -of the Italian vines, were something more than actual; they were -allegorical. They were the destruction of domestic and fruitful things, -the withering of what was human before that inhumanity that is far -beyond the human thing called cruelty. The household gods bowed low in -darkness under their lowly roofs; and above them went the demons upon a -wind from beyond all walls, blowing the trumpet of the Tramontane. The -door of the Alps was broken down; and in no vulgar but a very solemn -sense, it was Hell let loose. The war of the gods and demons seemed -already to have ended; and the gods were dead. The eagles were lost, the -legions were broken; and in Rome nothing remained but honour and the -cold courage of despair. - -In the whole world one thing still threatened Carthage, and that was -Carthage. There still remained the inner working of an element strong in -all successful commercial states, and the presence of a spirit that we -know. There was still the solid sense and shrewdness of the men who -manage big enterprises; there was still the advice of the best financial -experts; there was still business government; there was still the broad -and sane outlook of practical men of affairs; and in these things could -the Romans hope. As the war trailed on to what seemed its tragic end, -there grew gradually a faint and strange possibility that even now they -might not hope in vain. The plain business men of Carthage, thinking as -such men do in terms of living and dying races, saw clearly that Rome -was not only dying but dead. The war was over; it was obviously hopeless -for the Italian city to resist any longer, and inconceivable that -anybody should resist when it was hopeless. Under these circumstances, -another set of broad, sound business principles remained to be -considered. Wars were waged with money, and consequently cost money; -perhaps they felt in their hearts, as do so many of their kind, that -after all war must be a little wicked because it costs money. The time -had now come for peace; and still more for economy. The messages sent by -Hannibal from time to time asking for reinforcements were a ridiculous -anachronism; there were much more important things to attend to now. It -might be true that some consul or other had made a last dash to the -Metaurus, had killed Hannibal’s brother and flung his head, with Latin -fury, into Hannibal’s camp; and mad actions of that sort showed how -utterly hopeless the Latins felt about their cause. But even excitable -Latins could not be so mad as to cling to a lost cause for ever. So -argued the best financial experts; and tossed aside more and more -letters, full of rather queer alarmist reports. So argued and acted the -great Carthaginian Empire. That meaningless prejudice, the curse of -commercial states, that stupidity is in some way practical and that -genius is in some way futile, led them to starve and abandon that great -artist in the school of arms, whom the gods had given them in vain. - -Why do men entertain this queer idea that what is sordid must always -overthrow what is magnanimous; that there is some dim connection between -brains and brutality, or that it does not matter if a man is dull so -long as he is also mean? Why do they vaguely think of all chivalry as -sentiment and all sentiment as weakness? They do it because they are, -like all men, primarily inspired by religion. For them, as for all men, -the first fact is their notion of the nature of things; their idea -about what world they are living in. And it is their faith that the only -ultimate thing is fear and therefore that the very heart of the world is -evil. They believe that death is stronger than life, and therefore dead -things must be stronger than living things; whether those dead things -are gold and iron and machinery or rocks and rivers and forces of -nature. It may sound fanciful to say that men we meet at tea-tables or -talk to at garden-parties are secretly worshippers of Baal or Moloch. -But this sort of commercial mind has its own cosmic vision and it is the -vision of Carthage. It has in it the brutal blunder that was the ruin of -Carthage. The Punic power fell, because there is in this materialism a -mad indifference to real thought. By disbelieving in the soul, it comes -to disbelieving in the mind. Being too practical to be moral, it denies -what every practical soldier calls the moral of an army. It fancies that -money will fight when men will no longer fight. So it was with the Punic -merchant princes. Their religion was a religion of despair, even when -their practical fortunes were hopeful. How could they understand that -the Romans could hope even when their fortunes were hopeless? Their -religion was a religion of force and fear; how could they understand -that men can still despise fear even when they submit to force? Their -philosophy of the world had weariness in its very heart; above all they -were weary of warfare; how should they understand those who still wage -war even when they are weary of it? In a word, how should they -understand the mind of Man, who had so long bowed down before mindless -things, money and brute force and gods who had the hearts of beasts? -They awoke suddenly to the news that the embers they had disdained too -much even to tread out were again breaking everywhere into flame; that -Hasdrubal was defeated, that Hannibal was outnumbered, that Scipio had -carried the war into Spain; that he had carried it into Africa. Before -the very gates of the golden city Hannibal fought his last fight for it -and lost; and Carthage fell as nothing has fallen since Satan. The name -of the New City remains only as a name. There is no stone of it left -upon the sand. Another war was indeed waged before the final -destruction: but the destruction was final. Only men digging in its deep -foundations centuries after found a heap of hundreds of little -skeletons, the holy relics of that religion. For Carthage fell because -she was faithful to her own philosophy and had followed out to its -logical conclusion her own vision of the universe. Moloch had eaten his -children. - -The gods had risen again, and the demons had been defeated after all. -But they had been defeated by the defeated, and almost defeated by the -dead. Nobody understands the romance of Rome, and why she rose -afterwards to a representative leadership that seemed almost fated and -fundamentally natural, who does not keep in mind the agony of horror and -humiliation through which she had continued to testify to the sanity -that is the soul of Europe. She came to stand alone in the midst of an -empire because she had once stood alone in the midst of a ruin and a -waste. After that all men knew in their hearts that she had been -representative of mankind, even when she was rejected of men. And there -fell on her the shadow from a shining and as yet invisible light and the -burden of things to be. It is not for us to guess in what manner or -moment the mercy of God might in any case have rescued the world; but it -is certain that the struggle which established Christendom would have -been very different if there had been an empire of Carthage instead of -an empire of Rome. We have to thank the patience of the Punic wars if, -in after ages, divine things descended at least upon human things and -not inhuman. Europe evolved into its own vices and its own impotence, as -will be suggested on another page; but the worst into which it evolved -was not like what it had escaped. Can any man in his senses compare the -great wooden doll, whom the children expected to eat a little bit of the -dinner, with the great idol who would have been expected to eat the -children? That is the measure of how far the world went astray, compared -with how far it might have gone astray. If the Romans were ruthless, it -was in a true sense to an enemy, and certainly not merely a rival. They -remembered not trade routes and regulations, but the faces of sneering -men; and hated the hateful soul of Carthage. And we owe them something -if we never needed to cut down the groves of Venus exactly as men cut -down the groves of Baal. We owe it partly to their harshness that our -thoughts of our human past are not wholly harsh. If the passage from -heathenry to Christianity was a bridge as well as a breach, we owe it to -those who kept that heathenry human. If, after all these ages, we are in -some sense at peace with paganism, and can think more kindly of our -fathers, it is well to remember the things that were and the things that -might have been. For this reason alone we can take lightly the load of -antiquity and need not shudder at a nymph on a fountain or a cupid on a -valentine. Laughter and sadness link us with things long past away and -remembered without dishonour; and we can see not altogether without -tenderness the twilight sinking around the Sabine farm and hear the -household gods rejoice when Catullus comes home to Sirmio. _Deleta est -Carthago._ - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -THE END OF THE WORLD - - -I was once sitting on a summer day in a meadow in Kent under the shadow -of a little village church, with a rather curious companion with whom I -had just been walking through the woods. He was one of a group of -eccentrics I had come across in my wanderings who had a new religion -called Higher Thought; in which I had been so far initiated as to -realise a general atmosphere of loftiness or height, and was hoping at -some later and more esoteric stage to discover the beginnings of -thought. My companion was the most amusing of them, for however he may -have stood towards thought, he was at least very much their superior in -experience, having travelled beyond the tropics while they were -meditating in the suburbs; though he had been charged with excess in -telling travellers’ tales. In spite of anything said against him, I -preferred him to his companions and willingly went with him through the -wood; where I could not but feel that his sunburnt face and fierce -tufted eyebrows and pointed beard gave him something of the look of Pan. -Then we sat down in the meadow and gazed idly at the tree-tops and the -spire of the village church; while the warm afternoon began to mellow -into early evening and the song of a speck of a bird was faint far up in -the sky and no more than a whisper of breeze soothed rather than stirred -the ancient orchards of the garden of England. Then my companion said to -me: ‘Do you know why the spire of that church goes up like that?’ I -expressed a respectable agnosticism, and he answered in an off-hand -way, ‘Oh, the same as the obelisks; the phallic worship of antiquity.’ -Then I looked across at him suddenly as he lay there leering above his -goatlike beard; and for the moment I thought he was not Pan but the -Devil. No mortal words can express the immense, the insane incongruity -and unnatural perversion of thought involved in saying such a thing at -such a moment and in such a place. For one moment I was in the mood in -which men burned witches; and then a sense of absurdity equally enormous -seemed to open about me like a dawn. ‘Why, of course,’ I said after a -moment’s reflection, ‘if it hadn’t been for phallic worship, they would -have built the spire pointing downwards and standing on its own apex.’ I -could have sat in that field and laughed for an hour. My friend did not -seem offended, for indeed he was never thin-skinned about his scientific -discoveries. I had only met him by chance and I never met him again, and -I believe he is now dead; but though it has nothing to do with the -argument, it may be worth while to mention the name of this adherent of -Higher Thought and interpreter of primitive religious origins; or at any -rate the name by which he was known. It was Louis de Rougemont. - -That insane image of the Kentish church standing on the point of its -spire, as in some old rustic topsy-turvy tale, always comes back into my -imagination when I hear these things said about pagan origins; and calls -to my aid the laughter of the giants. Then I feel as genially and -charitably to all other scientific investigators, higher critics, and -authorities on ancient and modern religion, as I do to poor Louis de -Rougemont. But the memory of that immense absurdity remains as a sort of -measure and check by which to keep sane, not only on the subject of -Christian churches, but also on the subject of heathen temples. Now a -great many people have talked about heathen origins as the distinguished -traveller talked about Christian origins. Indeed a great many modern -heathens have been very hard on heathenism. A great many modern -humanitarians have been very hard on the real religion of humanity. They -have represented it as being everywhere and from the first rooted only -in these repulsive arcana; and carrying the character of something -utterly shameless and anarchical. Now I do not believe this for a -moment. I should never dream of thinking about the whole worship of -Apollo what De Rougemont could think about the worship of Christ. I -would never admit that there was such an atmosphere in a Greek city as -that madman was able to smell in a Kentish village. On the contrary, it -is the whole point, even of this final chapter upon the final decay of -paganism, to insist once more that the worst sort of paganism had -already been defeated by the best sort. It was the best sort of paganism -that conquered the gold of Carthage. It was the best sort of paganism -that wore the laurels of Rome. It was the best thing the world had yet -seen, all things considered and on any large scale, that ruled from the -wall of the Grampians to the garden of the Euphrates. It was the best -that conquered; it was the best that ruled; and it was the best that -began to decay. - -Unless this broad truth be grasped, the whole story is seen askew. -Pessimism is not in being tired of evil but in being tired of good. -Despair does not lie in being weary of suffering, but in being weary of -joy. It is when for some reason or other the good things in a society no -longer work that the society begins to decline; when its food does not -feed, when its cures do not cure, when its blessings refuse to bless. We -might almost say that in a society without such good things we should -hardly have any test by which to register a decline; that is why some of -the static commercial oligarchies like Carthage have rather an air in -history of standing and staring like mummies, so dried up and swathed -and embalmed that no man knows when they are new or old. But Carthage -at any rate was dead, and the worst assault ever made by the demons on -mortal society had been defeated. But how much would it matter that the -worst was dead if the best was dying? - -To begin with, it must be noted that the relation of Rome to Carthage -was partially repeated and extended in her relation to nations more -normal and more nearly akin to her than Carthage. I am not here -concerned to controvert the merely political view that Roman statesmen -acted unscrupulously towards Corinth or the Greek cities. But I am -concerned to contradict the notion that there was nothing but a -hypocritical excuse in the ordinary Roman dislike of Greek vices. I am -not presenting these pagans as paladins of chivalry, with a sentiment -about nationalism never known until Christian times. But I am presenting -them as men with the feelings of men; and those feelings were not a -pretence. The truth is that one of the weaknesses in nature-worship and -mere mythology had already produced a perversion among the Greeks, due -to the worst sophistry; the sophistry of simplicity. Just as they became -unnatural by worshipping nature, so they actually became unmanly by -worshipping man. If Greece led her conqueror, she might have misled her -conqueror; but these were things he did originally wish to conquer--even -in himself. It is true that in one sense there was less inhumanity even -in Sodom and Gomorrah than in Tyre and Sidon. When we consider the war -of the demons on the children, we cannot compare even Greek decadence to -Punic devil-worship. But it is not true that the sincere revulsion from -either need be merely pharisaical. It is not true to human nature or to -common sense. Let any lad who has had the luck to grow up sane and -simple in his day-dreams of love hear for the first time of the cult of -Ganymede; he will not be merely shocked but sickened. And that first -impression, as has been said here so often about first impressions, will -be right. Our cynical indifference is an illusion; it is the greatest -of all illusions: the illusion of familiarity. It is right to conceive -the more or less rustic virtues of the ruck of the original Romans as -reacting against the very rumour of it, with complete spontaneity and -sincerity. It is right to regard them as reacting, if in a lesser -degree, exactly as they did against the cruelty of Carthage. Because it -was in a less degree they did not destroy Corinth as they destroyed -Carthage. But if their attitude and action was rather destructive, in -neither case need their indignation have been mere self-righteousness -covering mere selfishness. And if anybody insists that nothing could -have operated in either case but reasons of state and commercial -conspiracies, we can only tell him that there is something which he does -not understand; something which possibly he will never understand; -something which, until he does understand, he will never understand the -Latins. That something is called democracy. He has probably heard the -word a good many times and even used it himself; but he has no notion of -what it means. All through the revolutionary history of Rome there was -an incessant drive towards democracy; the state and the statesman could -do nothing without a considerable backing of democracy; the sort of -democracy that never has anything to do with diplomacy. It is precisely -because of the presence of Roman democracy that we hear so much about -Roman oligarchy. For instance, recent historians have tried to explain -the valour and victory of Rome in terms of that detestable and detested -usury which was practised by some of the Patricians; as if Curius had -conquered the men of the Macedonian phalanx by lending them money; or -the Consul Nero had negotiated the victory of Metaurus at five per cent. -But we realise the usury of the Patricians because of the perpetual -revolt of the Plebeians. The rule of the Punic merchant princes had the -very soul of usury. But there was never a Punic mob that dared to call -them usurers. - -Burdened like all mortal things with all mortal sin and weakness, the -rise of Rome had really been the rise of normal and especially of -popular things; and in nothing more than in the thoroughly normal and -profoundly popular hatred of perversion. Now among the Greeks a -perversion had become a convention. It is true that it had become so -much of a convention, especially a literary convention, that it was -sometimes conventionally copied by Roman literary men. But this is one -of those complications that always arise out of conventions. It must not -obscure our sense of the difference of tone in the two societies as a -whole. It is true that Virgil would once in a way take over a theme of -Theocritus; but nobody can get the impression that Virgil was -particularly fond of that theme. The themes of Virgil were specially and -notably the normal themes, and nowhere more than in morals; piety and -patriotism and the honour of the countryside. And we may well pause upon -the name of the poet as we pass into the autumn of antiquity: upon his -name who was in so supreme a sense the very voice of autumn, of its -maturity and its melancholy; of its fruits of fulfilment and its -prospect of decay. Nobody who reads even a few lines of Virgil can doubt -that he understood what moral sanity means to mankind. Nobody can doubt -his feelings when the demons were driven in flight before the household -gods. But there are two particular points about him and his work which -are particularly important to the main thesis here. The first is that -the whole of his great patriotic epic is in a very peculiar sense -founded upon the fall of Troy; that is, upon an avowed pride in Troy -although she had fallen. In tracing to Trojans the foundation of his -beloved race and republic, he began what may be called the great Trojan -tradition which runs through medieval and modern history. We have -already seen the first hint of it in the pathos of Homer about Hector. -But Virgil turned it not merely into a literature but into a legend. And -it was a legend of the almost divine dignity that belongs to the -defeated. This was one of the traditions that did truly prepare the -world for the coming of Christianity and especially of Christian -chivalry. This is what did help to sustain civilisation through the -incessant defeats of the Dark Ages and the barbarian wars; out of which -what we call chivalry was born. It is the moral attitude of the man with -his back to the wall; and it was the wall of Troy. All through medieval -and modern times this version of the virtues in the Homeric conflict can -be traced in a hundred ways co-operating with all that was akin to it in -Christian sentiment. Our own countrymen, and the men of other countries, -loved to claim like Virgil that their own nation was descended from the -heroic Trojans. All sorts of people thought it the most superb sort of -heraldry to claim to be descended from Hector. Nobody seems to have -wanted to be descended from Achilles. The very fact that the Trojan name -has become a Christian name, and been scattered to the last limits of -Christendom, to Ireland or the Gaelic Highlands, while the Greek name -has remained relatively rare and pedantic, is a tribute to the same -truth. Indeed it involves a curiosity of language almost in the nature -of a joke. The name has been turned into a verb; and the very phrase -about hectoring, in the sense of swaggering, suggests the myriads of -soldiers who have taken the fallen Trojan for a model. As a matter of -fact, nobody in antiquity was less given to hectoring than Hector. But -even the bully pretending to be a conqueror took his title from the -conquered. That is why the popularisation of the Trojan origin by Virgil -has a vital relation to all those elements that have made men say that -Virgil was almost a Christian. It is almost as if two great tools or -toys of the same timber, the divine and the human, had been in the -hands of Providence; and the only thing comparable to the Wooden Cross -of Calvary was the Wooden Horse of Troy. So, in some wild allegory, -pious in purpose if almost profane in form, the Holy Child might have -fought the Dragon with a wooden sword and a wooden horse. - -The other element in Virgil which is essential to the argument is the -particular nature of his relation to mythology; or what may here in a -special sense be called folklore, the faiths and fancies of the -populace. Everybody knows that his poetry at its most perfect is less -concerned with the pomposity of Olympus than with the _numina_ of -natural and agricultural life. Every one knows where Virgil looked for -the causes of things. He speaks of finding them not so much in cosmic -allegories of Uranus and Chronos; but rather in Pan and the sisterhood -of the nymphs and the shaggy old man of the forest. He is perhaps most -himself in some passages of the Eclogues, in which he has perpetuated -for ever the great legend of Arcadia and the shepherds. Here again it is -easy enough to miss the point with petty criticism about all the things -that happen to separate his literary convention from ours. There is -nothing more artificial than the cry of artificiality, as directed -against the old pastoral poetry. We have entirely missed all that our -fathers meant by looking at the externals of what they wrote. People -have been so much amused with the mere fact that the china shepherdess -was made of china that they have not even asked why she was made at all. -They have been so content to consider the Merry Peasant as a figure in -an opera that they have not asked even how he came to go to the opera, -or how he strayed on to the stage. - -In short, we have only to ask why there is a china shepherdess and not a -china shopkeeper. Why were not mantelpieces adorned with figures of city -merchants in elegant attitudes; of ironmasters wrought in iron, or gold -speculators in gold? Why did the opera exhibit a Merry Peasant and not a -Merry Politician? Why was there not a ballet of bankers, pirouetting -upon pointed toes? Because the ancient instinct and humour of humanity -have always told them, under whatever conventions, that the conventions -of complex cities were less really healthy and happy than the customs of -the countryside. So it is with the eternity of the Eclogues. A modern -poet did indeed write things called Fleet Street Eclogues, in which -poets took the place of the shepherds. But nobody has yet written -anything called Wall Street Eclogues, in which millionaires should take -the place of the poets. And the reason is that there is a real if only a -recurrent yearning for that sort of simplicity; and there is never that -sort of yearning for that sort of complexity. The key to the mystery of -the Merry Peasant is that the peasant often is merry. Those who do not -believe it are simply those who do not know anything about him, and -therefore do not know which are his times for merriment. Those who do -not believe in the shepherd’s feast or song are merely ignorant of the -shepherd’s calendar. The real shepherd is indeed very different from the -ideal shepherd, but that is no reason for forgetting the reality at the -root of the ideal. It needs a truth to make a tradition. It needs a -tradition to make a convention. Pastoral poetry is certainly often a -convention, especially in a social decline. It was in a social decline -that Watteau shepherds and shepherdesses lounged about the gardens of -Versailles. It was also in a social decline that shepherds and -shepherdesses continued to pipe and dance through the most faded -imitations of Virgil. But that is no reason for dismissing the dying -paganism without ever understanding its life. It is no reason for -forgetting that the very word Pagan is the same as the word Peasant. We -may say that this art is only artificiality; but it is not a love of the -artificial. On the contrary, it is in its very nature only the failure -of nature-worship, or the love of the natural. - -For the shepherds were dying because their gods were dying. Paganism -lived upon poetry; that poetry already considered under the name of -mythology. But everywhere, and especially in Italy, it had been a -mythology and a poetry rooted in the countryside; and that rustic -religion had been largely responsible for the rustic happiness. Only as -the whole society grew in age and experience, there began to appear that -weakness in all mythology already noted in the chapter under that name. -This religion was not quite a religion. In other words, this religion -was not quite a reality. It was the young world’s riot with images and -ideas like a young man’s riot with wine or love-making; it was not so -much immoral as irresponsible; it had no foresight of the final test of -time. Because it was creative to any extent it was credulous to any -extent. It belonged to the artistic side of man, yet even considered -artistically it had long become overloaded and entangled. The family -trees sprung from the seed of Jupiter were a jungle rather than a -forest; the claims of the gods and demigods seemed like things to be -settled rather by a lawyer or a professional herald than by a poet. But -it is needless to say that it was not only in the artistic sense that -these things had grown more anarchic. There had appeared in more and -more flagrant fashion that flower of evil that is really implicit in the -very seed of nature-worship, however natural it may seem. I have said -that I do not believe that natural worship necessarily begins with this -particular passion; I am not of the De Rougemont school of scientific -folklore. I do not believe that mythology must begin in eroticism. But I -do believe that mythology must end in it. I am quite certain that -mythology did end in it. Moreover, not only did the poetry grow more -immoral, but the immorality grew more indefensible. Greek vices, -oriental vices, hints of the old horrors of the Semitic demons, began to -fill the fancies of decaying Rome, swarming like flies on a dung-heap. -The psychology of it is really human enough, to any one who will try -that experiment of seeing history from the inside. There comes an hour -in the afternoon when the child is tired of ‘pretending’; when he is -weary of being a robber or a Red Indian. It is then that he torments the -cat. There comes a time in the routine of an ordered civilisation when -the man is tired of playing at mythology and pretending that a tree is a -maiden or that the moon made love to a man. The effect of this staleness -is the same everywhere; it is seen in all drug-taking and dram-drinking -and every form of the tendency to increase the dose. Men seek stranger -sins or more startling obscenities as stimulants to their jaded sense. -They seek after mad oriental religions for the same reason. They try to -stab their nerves to life, if it were with the knives of the priests of -Baal. They are walking in their sleep and try to wake themselves up with -nightmares. - -At that stage even of paganism therefore the peasant songs and dances -sound fainter and fainter in the forest. For one thing, the peasant -civilisation was fading, or had already faded, from the whole -countryside. The Empire at the end was organised more and more on that -servile system which generally goes with the boast of organisation; -indeed it was almost as servile as the modern schemes for the -organisation of industry. It is proverbial that what would once have -been a peasantry became a mere populace of the town dependent for bread -and circuses; which may again suggest to some a mob dependent upon doles -and cinemas. In this as in many other respects, the modern return to -heathenism has been a return not even to the heathen youth but rather to -the heathen old age. But the causes of it were spiritual in both cases; -and especially the spirit of paganism had departed with its familiar -spirits. The heart had gone out of it with its household gods, who went -along with the gods of the garden and the field and the forest. The Old -Man of the Forest was too old; he was already dying. It is said truly in -a sense that Pan died because Christ was born. It is almost as true in -another sense that men knew that Christ was born because Pan was already -dead. A void was made by the vanishing of the whole mythology of -mankind, which would have asphyxiated like a vacuum if it had not been -filled with theology. But the point for the moment is that the mythology -could not have lasted like a theology in any case. Theology is thought, -whether we agree with it or not. Mythology was never thought, and nobody -could really agree with it or disagree with it. It was a mere mood of -glamour, and when the mood went it could not be recovered. Men not only -ceased to believe in the gods, but they realised that they had never -believed in them. They had sung their praises; they had danced round -their altars. They had played the flute; they had played the fool. - -So came the twilight upon Arcady, and the last notes of the pipe sound -sadly from the beechen grove. In the great Virgilian poems there is -already something of the sadness; but the loves and the household gods -linger in lovely lines like that which Mr. Belloc took for a test of -understanding; _incipe, parve puer, risu cognoscere matrem_. But with -them as with us, the human family itself began to break down under -servile organisation and the herding of the towns. The urban mob became -enlightened; that is, it lost the mental energy that could create myths. -All round the circle of the Mediterranean cities the people mourned for -the loss of gods and were consoled with gladiators. And meanwhile -something similar was happening to that intellectual aristocracy of -antiquity that had been walking about and talking at large ever since -Socrates and Pythagoras. They began to betray to the world the fact -that they were walking in a circle and saying the same thing over and -over again. Philosophy began to be a joke; it also began to be a bore. -That unnatural simplification of everything into one system or another, -which we have noted as the fault of the philosopher, revealed at once -its finality and its futility. Everything was virtue or everything was -happiness or everything was fate or everything was good or everything -was bad; anyhow, everything was everything and there was no more to be -said; so they said it. Everywhere the sages had degenerated into -sophists; that is, into hired rhetoricians or askers of riddles. It is -one of the symptoms of this that the sage begins to turn not only into a -sophist but into a magician. A touch of oriental occultism is very much -appreciated in the best houses. As the philosopher is already a society -entertainer, he may as well also be a conjurer. - -Many moderns have insisted on the smallness of that Mediterranean world; -and the wider horizons that might have awaited it with the discovery of -the other continents. But this is an illusion; one of the many illusions -of materialism. The limits that paganism had reached in Europe were the -limits of human existence; at its best it had only reached the same -limits anywhere else. The Roman stoics did not need any Chinamen to -teach them stoicism. The Pythagoreans did not need any Hindus to teach -them about recurrence or the simple life or the beauty of being a -vegetarian. In so far as they could get these things from the East, they -had already got rather too much of them from the East. The Syncretists -were as convinced as Theosophists that all religions are really the -same. And how else could they have extended philosophy merely by -extending geography? It can hardly be proposed that they should learn a -purer religion from the Aztecs or sit at the feet of the Incas of Peru. -All the rest of the world was a welter of barbarism. It is essential to -recognise that the Roman Empire was recognised as the highest -achievement of the human race; and also as the broadest. A dreadful -secret seemed to be written as in obscure hieroglyphics across those -mighty works of marble and stone, those colossal amphitheatres and -aqueducts. Man could do no more. - -For it was not the message blazed on the Babylonian wall, that one king -was found wanting or his one kingdom given to a stranger. It was no such -good news as the news of invasion and conquest. There was nothing left -that could conquer Rome; but there was also nothing left that could -improve it. It was the strongest thing that was growing weak. It was the -best thing that was going to the bad. It is necessary to insist again -and again that many civilisations had met in one civilisation of the -Mediterranean sea; that it was already universal with a stale and -sterile universality. The peoples had pooled their resources and still -there was not enough. The empires had gone into partnership and they -were still bankrupt. No philosopher who was really philosophical could -think anything except that, in that central sea, the wave of the world -had risen to its highest, seeming to touch the stars. But the wave was -already stooping; for it was only the wave of the world. - -That mythology and that philosophy into which paganism has already been -analysed had thus both of them been drained most literally to the dregs. -If with the multiplication of magic the third department, which we have -called the demons, was even increasingly active, it was never anything -but destructive. There remains only the fourth element, or rather the -first; that which had been in a sense forgotten because it was the -first. I mean the primary and overpowering yet impalpable impression -that the universe after all has one origin and one aim; and because it -has an aim must have an author. What became of this great truth in the -background of men’s minds, at this time, it is perhaps more difficult to -determine. Some of the Stoics undoubtedly saw it more and more clearly -as the clouds of mythology cleared and thinned away; and great men among -them did much even to the last to lay the foundations of a concept of -the moral unity of the world. The Jews still held their secret certainty -of it jealously behind high fences of exclusiveness; yet it is intensely -characteristic of the society and the situation that some fashionable -figures, especially fashionable ladies, actually embraced Judaism. But -in the case of many others I fancy there entered at this point a new -negation. Atheism became really possible in that abnormal time; for -atheism is abnormality. It is not merely the denial of a dogma. It is -the reversal of a subconscious assumption in the soul; the sense that -there is a meaning and a direction in the world it sees. Lucretius, the -first evolutionist who endeavoured to substitute Evolution for God, had -already dangled before men’s eyes his dance of glittering atoms, by -which he conceived cosmos as created by chaos. But it was not his strong -poetry or his sad philosophy, as I fancy, that made it possible for men -to entertain such a vision. It was something in the sense of impotence -and despair with which men shook their fists vainly at the stars, as -they saw all the best work of humanity sinking slowly and helplessly -into a swamp. They could easily believe that even creation itself was -not a creation but a perpetual fall, when they saw that the weightiest -and worthiest of all human creations was falling by its own weight. They -could fancy that all the stars were falling stars; and that the very -pillars of their own solemn porticos were bowed under a sort of gradual -Deluge. To men in that mood there was a reason for atheism that is in -some sense reasonable. Mythology might fade and philosophy might -stiffen; but if behind these things there was a reality, surely that -reality might have sustained things as they sank. There was no God; if -there had been a God, surely this was the very moment when He would have -moved and saved the world. - -The life of the great civilisation went on with dreary industry and even -with dreary festivity. It was the end of the world, and the worst of it -was that it need never end. A convenient compromise had been made -between all the multitudinous myths and religions of the Empire; that -each group should worship freely and merely give a sort of official -flourish of thanks to the tolerant Emperor, by tossing a little incense -to him under his official title of Divus. Naturally there was no -difficulty about that; or rather it was a long time before the world -realised that there ever had been even a trivial difficulty anywhere. -The members of some eastern sect or secret society or other seemed to -have made a scene somewhere; nobody could imagine why. The incident -occurred once or twice again and began to arouse irritation out of -proportion to its insignificance. It was not exactly what these -provincials said; though of course it sounded queer enough. They seemed -to be saying that God was dead and that they themselves had seen him -die. This might be one of the many manias produced by the despair of the -age; only they did not seem particularly despairing. They seem quite -unnaturally joyful about it, and gave the reason that the death of God -had allowed them to eat him and drink his blood. According to other -accounts God was not exactly dead after all; there trailed through the -bewildered imagination some sort of fantastic procession of the funeral -of God, at which the sun turned black, but which ended with the dead -omnipotence breaking out of the tomb and rising again like the sun. But -it was not the strange story to which anybody paid any particular -attention; people in that world had seen queer religions enough to fill -a madhouse. It was something in the tone of the madmen and their type -of formation. They were a scratch company of barbarians and slaves and -poor and unimportant people; but their formation was military; they -moved together and were very absolute about who and what was really a -part of their little system; and about what they said, however mildly, -there was a ring like iron. Men used to many mythologies and moralities -could make no analysis of the mystery, except the curious conjecture -that they meant what they said. All attempts to make them see reason in -the perfectly simple matter of the Emperor’s statue seemed to be spoken -to deaf men. It was as if a new meteoric metal had fallen on the earth; -it was a difference of substance to the touch. Those who touched their -foundation fancied they had struck a rock. - -With a strange rapidity, like the changes of a dream, the proportions of -things seemed to change in their presence. Before most men knew what had -happened, these few men were palpably present. They were important -enough to be ignored. People became suddenly silent about them and -walked stiffly past them. We see a new scene, in which the world has -drawn its skirts away from these men and women and they stand in the -centre of a great space like lepers. The scene changes again and the -great space where they stand is overhung on every side with a cloud of -witnesses, interminable terraces full of faces looking down towards them -intently; for strange things are happening to them. New tortures have -been invented for the madmen who have brought good news. That sad and -weary society seems almost to find a new energy in establishing its -first religious persecution. Nobody yet knows very clearly why that -level world has thus lost its balance about the people in its midst; but -they stand unnaturally still while the arena and the world seem to -revolve round them. And there shone on them in that dark hour a light -that has never been darkened; a white fire clinging to that group like -an unearthly phosphorescence, blazing its track through the twilights of -history and confounding every effort to confound it with the mists of -mythology and theory; that shaft of light or lightning by which the -world itself has struck and isolated and crowned it; by which its own -enemies have made it more illustrious and its own critics have made it -more inexplicable; the halo of hatred around the Church of God. - - - - -PART II - -ON THE MAN CALLED CHRIST - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE GOD IN THE CAVE - - -This sketch of the human story began in a cave; the cave which popular -science associates with the cave-man and in which practical discovery -has really found archaic drawings of animals. The second half of human -history, which was like a new creation of the world, also begins in a -cave. There is even a shadow of such a fancy in the fact that animals -were again present; for it was a cave used as a stable by the -mountaineers of the uplands about Bethlehem; who still drive their -cattle into such holes and caverns at night. It was here that a homeless -couple had crept underground with the cattle when the doors of the -crowded caravanserai had been shut in their faces; and it was here -beneath the very feet of the passersby, in a cellar under the very floor -of the world, that Jesus Christ was born. But in that second creation -there was indeed something symbolical in the roots of the primeval rock -or the horns of the prehistoric herd. God also was a Cave-Man, and had -also traced strange shapes of creatures, curiously coloured, upon the -wall of the world; but the pictures that he made had come to life. - -A mass of legend and literature, which increases and will never end, has -repeated and rung the changes on that single paradox; that the hands -that had made the sun and stars were too small to reach the huge heads -of the cattle. Upon this paradox, we might almost say upon this jest, -all the literature of our faith is founded. It is at least like a jest -in this, that it is something which the scientific critic cannot see. -He laboriously explains the difficulty which we have always defiantly -and almost derisively exaggerated; and mildly condemns as improbable -something that we have almost madly exalted as incredible; as something -that would be much too good to be true, except that it is true. When -that contrast between the cosmic creation and the little local infancy -has been repeated, reiterated, underlined, emphasised, exulted in, sung, -shouted, roared, not to say howled, in a hundred thousand hymns, carols, -rhymes, rituals, pictures, poems, and popular sermons, it may be -suggested that we hardly need a higher critic to draw our attention to -something a little odd about it; especially one of the sort that seems -to take a long time to see a joke, even his own joke. But about this -contrast and combination of ideas one thing may be said here, because it -is relevant to the whole thesis of this book. The sort of modern critic -of whom I speak is generally much impressed with the importance of -education in life and the importance of psychology in education. That -sort of man is never tired of telling us that first impressions fix -character by the law of causation; and he will become quite nervous if a -child’s visual sense is poisoned by the wrong colours on a golliwog or -his nervous system prematurely shaken by a cacophonous rattle. Yet he -will think us very narrow-minded if we say that this is exactly why -there really is a difference between being brought up as a Christian and -being brought up as a Jew or a Moslem or an atheist. The difference is -that every Catholic child has learned from pictures, and even every -Protestant child from stories, this incredible combination of contrasted -ideas as one of the very first impressions on his mind. It is not merely -a theological difference. It is a psychological difference which can -outlast any theologies. It really is, as that sort of scientist loves to -say about anything, incurable. Any agnostic or atheist whose childhood -has known a real Christmas has ever afterwards, whether he likes it or -not, an association in his mind between two ideas that most of mankind -must regard as remote from each other; the idea of a baby and the idea -of unknown strength that sustains the stars. His instincts and -imagination can still connect them, when his reason can no longer see -the need of the connection; for him there will always be some savour of -religion about the mere picture of a mother and a baby; some hint of -mercy and softening about the mere mention of the dreadful name of God. -But the two ideas are not naturally or necessarily combined. They would -not be necessarily combined for an ancient Greek or a Chinaman, even for -Aristotle or Confucius. It is no more inevitable to connect God with an -infant than to connect gravitation with a kitten. It has been created in -our minds by Christmas because we are Christians; because we are -psychological Christians even when we are not theological ones. In other -words, this combination of ideas has emphatically, in the much disputed -phrase, altered human nature. There is really a difference between the -man who knows it and the man who does not. It may not be a difference of -moral worth, for the Moslem or the Jew might be worthier according to -his lights; but it is a plain fact about the crossing of two particular -lights, the conjunction of two stars in our particular horoscope. -Omnipotence and impotence, or divinity and infancy, do definitely make a -sort of epigram which a million repetitions cannot turn into a -platitude. It is not unreasonable to call it unique. Bethlehem is -emphatically a place where extremes meet. - -Here begins, it is needless to say, another mighty influence for the -humanisation of Christendom. If the world wanted what is called a -non-controversial aspect of Christianity, it would probably select -Christmas. Yet it is obviously bound up with what is supposed to be a -controversial aspect (I could never at any stage of my opinions imagine -why); the respect paid to the Blessed Virgin. When I was a boy a more -Puritan generation objected to a statue upon a parish church -representing the Virgin and Child. After much controversy, they -compromised by taking away the Child. One would think that this was even -more corrupted with Mariolatry, unless the mother was counted less -dangerous when deprived of a sort of weapon. But the practical -difficulty is also a parable. You cannot chip away the statue of a -mother from all round that of a new-born child. You cannot suspend the -new-born child in mid-air; indeed you cannot really have a statue of a -new-born child at all. Similarly, you cannot suspend the idea of a -new-born child in the void or think of him without thinking of his -mother. You cannot visit the child without visiting the mother; you -cannot in common human life approach the child except through the -mother. If we are to think of Christ in this aspect at all, the other -idea follows as it is followed in history. We must either leave Christ -out of Christmas, or Christmas out of Christ, or we must admit, if only -as we admit it in an old picture, that those holy heads are too near -together for the haloes not to mingle and cross. - -It might be suggested, in a somewhat violent image, that nothing had -happened in that fold or crack in the great grey hills except that the -whole universe had been turned inside out. I mean that all the eyes of -wonder and worship which had been turned outwards to the largest thing -were now turned inward to the smallest. The very image will suggest all -that multitudinous marvel of converging eyes that makes so much of the -coloured Catholic imagery like a peacock’s tail. But it is true in a -sense that God who had been only a circumference was seen as a centre; -and a centre is infinitely small. It is true that the spiritual spiral -henceforward works inwards instead of outwards, and in that sense is -centripetal and not centrifugal. The faith becomes, in more ways than -one, a religion of little things. But its traditions in art and -literature and popular fable have quite sufficiently attested, as has -been said, this particular paradox of the divine being in the cradle. -Perhaps they have not so clearly emphasised the significance of the -divine being in the cave. Curiously enough, indeed, tradition has not -very clearly emphasised the cave. It is a familiar fact that the -Bethlehem scene has been represented in every possible setting of time -and country, of landscape and architecture; and it is a wholly happy and -admirable fact that men have conceived it as quite different according -to their different individual traditions and tastes. But while all have -realised that it was a stable, not so many have realised that it was a -cave. Some critics have even been so silly as to suppose that there was -some contradiction between the stable and the cave; in which case they -cannot know much about caves or stables in Palestine. As they see -differences that are not there, it is needless to add that they do not -see differences that are there. When a well-known critic says, for -instance, that Christ being born in a rocky cavern is like Mithras -having sprung alive out of a rock, it sounds like a parody upon -comparative religion. There is such a thing as the point of a story, -even if it is a story in the sense of a lie. And the notion of a hero -appearing, like Pallas from the brain of Zeus, mature and without a -mother, is obviously the very opposite of the idea of a god being born -like an ordinary baby and entirely dependent on a mother. Whichever -ideal we might prefer, we should surely see that they are contrary -ideals. It is as stupid to connect them because they both contain a -substance called stone as to identify the punishment of the Deluge with -the baptism in the Jordan because they both contain a substance called -water. Whether as a myth or a mystery, Christ was obviously conceived as -born in a hole in the rocks primarily because it marked the position of -one outcast and homeless. Nevertheless it is true, as I have said, that -the cave has not been so commonly or so clearly used as a symbol as the -other realities that surrounded the first Christmas. - -And the reason for this also refers to the very nature of that new -world. It was in a sense the difficulty of a new dimension. Christ was -not only born on the level of the world, but even lower than the world. -The first act of the divine drama was enacted, not only on no stage set -up above the sightseer, but on a dark and curtained stage sunken out of -sight; and that is an idea very difficult to express in most modes of -artistic expression. It is the idea of simultaneous happenings on -different levels of life. Something like it might have been attempted in -the more archaic and decorative medieval art. But the more the artists -learned of realism and perspective, the less they could depict at once -the angels in the heavens and the shepherds on the hills, and the glory -in the darkness that was under the hills. Perhaps it could have been -best conveyed by the characteristic expedient of some of the medieval -guilds, when they wheeled about the streets a theatre with three stages -one above the other, with heaven above the earth and hell under the -earth. But in the riddle of Bethlehem it was heaven that was under the -earth. - -There is in that alone the touch of a revolution, as of the world turned -upside down. It would be vain to attempt to say anything adequate, or -anything new, about the change which this conception of a deity born -like an outcast or even an outlaw had upon the whole conception of law -and its duties to the poor and outcast. It is profoundly true to say -that after that moment there could be no slaves. There could be and were -people bearing that legal title until the Church was strong enough to -weed them out, but there could be no more of the pagan repose in the -mere advantage to the state of keeping it a servile state. Individuals -became important, in a sense in which no instruments can be important. -A man could not be a means to an end, at any rate to any other man’s -end. All this popular and fraternal element in the story has been -rightly attached by tradition to the episode of the Shepherds; the hinds -who found themselves talking face to face with the princes of heaven. -But there is another aspect of the popular element as represented by the -shepherds which has not perhaps been so fully developed; and which is -more directly relevant here. - -Men of the people, like the shepherds, men of the popular tradition, had -everywhere been the makers of the mythologies. It was they who had felt -most directly, with least check or chill from philosophy or the corrupt -cults of civilisation, the need we have already considered; the images -that were adventures of the imagination; the mythology that was a sort -of search; the tempting and tantalising hints of something half-human in -nature; the dumb significance of seasons and special places. They had -best understood that the soul of a landscape is a story and the soul of -a story is a personality. But rationalism had already begun to rot away -these really irrational though imaginative treasures of the peasant; -even as systematic slavery had eaten the peasant out of house and home. -Upon all such peasantries everywhere there was descending a dusk and -twilight of disappointment, in the hour when these few men discovered -what they sought. Everywhere else Arcadia was fading from the forest. -Pan was dead and the shepherds were scattered like sheep. And though no -man knew it, the hour was near which was to end and to fulfil all -things; and though no man heard it, there was one far-off cry in an -unknown tongue upon the heaving wilderness of the mountains. The -shepherds had found their Shepherd. - -And the thing they found was of a kind with the things they sought. The -populace had been wrong in many things; but they had not been wrong in -believing that holy things could have a habitation and that divinity -need not disdain the limits of time and space. And the barbarian who -conceived the crudest fancy about the sun being stolen and hidden in a -box, or the wildest myth about the god being rescued and his enemy -deceived with a stone, was nearer to the secret of the cave and knew -more about the crisis of the world than all those in the circle of -cities round the Mediterranean who had become content with cold -abstractions or cosmopolitan generalisations; than all those who were -spinning thinner and thinner threads of thought out of the -transcendentalism of Plato or the orientalism of Pythagoras. The place -that the shepherds found was not an academy or an abstract republic; it -was not a place of myths allegorised or dissected or explained or -explained away. It was a place of dreams come true. Since that hour no -mythologies have been made in the world. Mythology is a search. - -We all know that the popular presentation of this popular story, in so -many miracle plays and carols, has given to the shepherds the costume, -the language, and the landscape of the separate English and European -countrysides. We all know that one shepherd will talk in a Somerset -dialect or another talk of driving his sheep from Conway towards the -Clyde. Most of us know by this time how true is that error, how wise, -how artistic, how intensely Christian and Catholic is that anachronism. -But some who have seen it in these scenes of medieval rusticity have -perhaps not seen it in another sort of poetry, which it is sometimes the -fashion to call artificial rather than artistic. I fear that many modern -critics will see only a faded classicism in the fact that men like -Crashaw and Herrick conceived the shepherds of Bethlehem under the form -of the shepherds of Virgil. Yet they were profoundly right; and in -turning their Bethlehem play into a Latin Eclogue they took up one of -the most important links in human history. Virgil, as we have already -seen, does stand for all that saner heathenism that had overthrown the -insane heathenism of human sacrifice; but the very fact that even the -Virgilian virtues and the sane heathenism were in incurable decay is the -whole problem to which the revelation to the shepherds is the solution. -If the world had ever had the chance to grow weary of being demoniac, it -might have been healed merely by becoming sane. But if it had grown -weary even of being sane, what was to happen except what did happen? Nor -is it false to conceive the Arcadian shepherd of the Eclogues as -rejoicing in what did happen. One of the Eclogues has even been claimed -as a prophecy of what did happen. But it is quite as much in the tone -and incidental diction of the great poet that we feel the potential -sympathy with the great event; and even in their own human phrases the -voices of the Virgilian shepherds might more than once have broken upon -more than the tenderness of Italy.... _Incipe, parve puer, risu -cognoscere matrem._... They might have found in that strange place all -that was best in the last traditions of the Latins; and something better -than a wooden idol standing up for ever for the pillar of the human -family; a Household God. But they and all the other mythologists would -be justified in rejoicing that the event had fulfilled not merely the -mysticism but the materialism of mythology. Mythology had many sins; but -it had not been wrong in being as carnal as the Incarnation. With -something of the ancient voice that was supposed to have rung through -the groves, it could cry again, ‘We have seen, he hath seen us, a -visible god.’ So the ancient shepherds might have danced, and their feet -have been beautiful upon the mountains, rejoicing over the philosophers. -But the philosophers had also heard. - -It is still a strange story, though an old one, how they came out of -orient lands, crowned with the majesty of kings and clothed with -something of the mystery of magicians. That truth that is tradition has -wisely remembered them almost as unknown quantities, as mysterious as -their mysterious and melodious names: Melchior, Caspar, Balthazar. But -there came with them all that world of wisdom that had watched the stars -in Chaldea and the sun in Persia; and we shall not be wrong if we see in -them the same curiosity that moves all the sages. They would stand for -the same human ideal if their names had really been Confucius or -Pythagoras or Plato. They were those who sought not tales but the truth -of things; and since their thirst for truth was itself a thirst for God, -they also have had their reward. But even in order to understand that -reward, we must understand that for philosophy as much as mythology, -that reward was the completion of the incomplete. - -Such learned men would doubtless have come, as these learned men did -come, to find themselves confirmed in much that was true in their own -traditions and right in their own reasoning. Confucius would have found -a new foundation for the family in the very reversal of the Holy Family; -Buddha would have looked upon a new renunciation, of stars rather than -jewels and divinity than royalty. These learned men would still have the -right to say, or rather a new right to say, that there was truth in -their old teaching. But, after all, these learned men would have come to -learn. They would have come to complete their conceptions with something -they had not yet conceived; even to balance their imperfect universe -with something they might once have contradicted. Buddha would have come -from his impersonal paradise to worship a person. Confucius would have -come from his temples of ancestor-worship to worship a child. - -We must grasp from the first this character in the new cosmos: that it -was larger than the old cosmos. In that sense Christendom is larger than -creation; as creation had been before Christ. It included things that -had not been there; it also included the things that had been there. -The point happens to be well illustrated in this example of Chinese -piety, but it would be true of other pagan virtues or pagan beliefs. -Nobody can doubt that a reasonable respect for parents is part of a -gospel in which God himself was subject in childhood to earthly parents. -But the other sense in which the parents were subject to him does -introduce an idea that is not Confucian. The infant Christ is not like -the infant Confucius; our mysticism conceives him in an immortal -infancy. I do not know what Confucius would have done with the Bambino, -had it come to life in his arms as it did in the arms of St. Francis. -But this is true in relation to all the other religions and -philosophies; it is the challenge of the Church. The Church contains -what the world does not contain. Life itself does not provide as she -does for all sides of life. That every other single system is narrow and -insufficient compared to this one; that is not a rhetorical boast; it is -a real fact and a real dilemma. Where is the Holy Child amid the Stoics -and the ancestor-worshippers? Where is Our Lady of the Moslems, a woman -made for no man and set above all angels? Where is St. Michael of the -monks of Buddha, rider and master of the trumpets, guarding for every -soldier the honour of the sword? What could St. Thomas Aquinas do with -the mythology of Brahminism, he who set forth all the science and -rationality and even rationalism of Christianity? Yet even if we compare -Aquinas with Aristotle, at the other extreme of reason, we shall find -the same sense of something added. Aquinas could understand the most -logical parts of Aristotle; it is doubtful if Aristotle could have -understood the most mystical parts of Aquinas. Even where we can hardly -call the Christian greater, we are forced to call him larger. But it is -so to whatever philosophy or heresy or modern movement we may turn. How -would Francis the Troubadour have fared among the Calvinists, or for -that matter among the Utilitarians of the Manchester School? Yet men -like Bossuet and Pascal could be as stern and logical as any Calvinist -or Utilitarian. How would St. Joan of Arc, a woman waving on men to war -with the sword, have fared among the Quakers or the Doukhabors or the -Tolstoyan sect of pacifists? Yet any number of Catholic saints have -spent their lives in preaching peace and preventing wars. It is the same -with all the modern attempts at Syncretism. They are never able to make -something larger than the Creed without leaving something out. I do not -mean leaving out something divine but something human; the flag or the -inn or the boy’s tale of battle or the hedge at the end of the field. -The Theosophists build a pantheon; but it is only a pantheon for -pantheists. They call a Parliament of Religions as a reunion of all the -peoples; but it is only a reunion of all the prigs. Yet exactly such a -pantheon had been set up two thousand years before by the shores of the -Mediterranean; and Christians were invited to set up the image of Jesus -side by side with the image of Jupiter, of Mithras, of Osiris, of Atys, -or of Ammon. It was the refusal of the Christians that was the -turning-point of history. If the Christians had accepted, they and the -whole world would have certainly, in a grotesque but exact metaphor, -gone to pot. They would all have been boiled down to one lukewarm liquid -in that great pot of cosmopolitan corruption in which all the other -myths and mysteries were already melting. It was an awful and an -appalling escape. Nobody understands the nature of the Church, or the -ringing note of the creed descending from antiquity, who does not -realise that the whole world once very nearly died of broadmindedness -and the brotherhood of all religions. - -Here it is the important point that the Magi, who stand for mysticism -and philosophy, are truly conceived as seeking something new and even as -finding something unexpected. That tense sense of crisis which still -tingles in the Christmas story, and even in every Christmas celebration, -accentuates the idea of a search and a discovery. The discovery is, in -this case, truly a scientific discovery. For the other mystical figures -in the miracle play, for the angel and the mother, the shepherds and the -soldiers of Herod, there may be aspects both simpler and more -supernatural, more elemental or more emotional. But the Wise Men must be -seeking wisdom; and for them there must be a light also in the -intellect. And this is the light: that the Catholic creed is catholic -and that nothing else is catholic. The philosophy of the Church is -universal. The philosophy of the philosophers was not universal. Had -Plato and Pythagoras and Aristotle stood for an instant in the light -that came out of that little cave, they would have known that their own -light was not universal. It is far from certain, indeed, that they did -not know it already. Philosophy also, like mythology, had very much the -air of a search. It is the realisation of this truth that gives its -traditional majesty and mystery to the figures of the Three Kings; the -discovery that religion is broader than philosophy and that this is the -broadest of religions, contained within this narrow space. The Magicians -were gazing at the strange pentacle with the human triangle reversed; -and they have never come to the end of their calculations about it. For -it is the paradox of that group in the cave, that while our emotions -about it are of childish simplicity, our thoughts about it can branch -with a never-ending complexity. And we can never reach the end even of -our own ideas about the child who was a father and the mother who was a -child. - -We might well be content to say that mythology had come with the -shepherds and philosophy with the philosophers; and that it only -remained for them to combine in the recognisation of religion. But there -was a third element that must not be ignored and one which that religion -for ever refuses to ignore, in any revel or reconciliation. There was -present in the primary scenes of the drama that Enemy that had rotted -the legends with lust and frozen the theories into atheism, but which -answered the direct challenge with something of that more direct method -which we have seen in the conscious cult of the demons. In the -description of that demon-worship, of the devouring detestation of -innocence shown in the works of its witchcraft and the most inhuman of -its human sacrifice, I have said less of its indirect and secret -penetration of the saner paganism; the soaking of mythological -imagination with sex; the rise of imperial pride into insanity. But both -the indirect and the direct influence make themselves felt in the drama -of Bethlehem. A ruler under the Roman suzerainty, probably equipped and -surrounded with the Roman ornament and order though himself of eastern -blood, seems in that hour to have felt stirring within him the spirit of -strange things. We all know the story of how Herod, alarmed at some -rumour of a mysterious rival, remembered the wild gesture of the -capricious despots of Asia and ordered a massacre of suspects of the new -generation of the populace. Every one knows the story; but not every one -has perhaps noted its place in the story of the strange religions of -men. Not everybody has seen the significance even of its very contrast -with the Corinthian columns and Roman pavement of that conquered and -superficially civilised world. Only, as the purpose in his dark spirit -began to show and shine in the eyes of the Idumean, a seer might perhaps -have seen something like a great grey ghost that looked over his -shoulder; have seen behind him, filling the dome of night and hovering -for the last time over history, that vast and fearful face that was -Moloch of the Carthaginians; awaiting his last tribute from a ruler of -the races of Shem. The demons also, in that first festival of Christmas, -feasted after their own fashion. - -Unless we understand the presence of that Enemy, we shall not only miss -the point of Christianity, but even miss the point of Christmas. -Christmas for us in Christendom has become one thing, and in one sense -even a simple thing. But, like all the truths of that tradition, it is -in another sense a very complex thing. Its unique note is the -simultaneous striking of many notes; of humility, of gaiety, of -gratitude, of mystical fear, but also of vigilance and of drama. It is -not only an occasion for the peacemakers any more than for the -merrymakers; it is not only a Hindu peace conference any more than it is -only a Scandinavian winter feast. There is something defiant in it also; -something that makes the abrupt bells at midnight sound like the great -guns of a battle that has just been won. All this indescribable thing -that we call the Christmas atmosphere only hangs in the air as something -like a lingering fragrance or fading vapour from the exultant explosion -of that one hour in the Judean hills nearly two thousand years ago. But -the savour is still unmistakable, and it is something too subtle or too -solitary to be covered by our use of the word peace. By the very nature -of the story the rejoicings in the cavern were rejoicings in a fortress -or an outlaw’s den; properly understood it is not unduly flippant to say -they were rejoicings in a dug-out. It is not only true that such a -subterranean chamber was a hiding-place from enemies; and that the -enemies were already scouring the stony plain that lay above it like a -sky. It is not only that the very horse-hoofs of Herod might in that -sense have passed like thunder over the sunken head of Christ. It is -also that there is in that image a true idea of an outpost, of a -piercing through the rock and an entrance into an enemy territory. There -is in this buried divinity an idea of _undermining_ the world; of -shaking the towers and palaces from below; even as Herod the great king -felt that earthquake under him and swayed with his swaying palace. - -That is perhaps the mightiest of the mysteries of the cave. It is -already apparent that though men are said to have looked for hell under -the earth, in this case it is rather heaven that is under the earth. And -there follows in this strange story the idea of an upheaval of heaven. -That is the paradox of the whole position; that henceforth the highest -thing can only work from below. Royalty can only return to its own by a -sort of rebellion. Indeed the Church from its beginnings, and perhaps -especially in its beginnings, was not so much a principality as a -revolution against the prince of the world. This sense that the world -had been conquered by the great usurper, and was in his possession, has -been much deplored or derided by those optimists who identify -enlightenment with ease. But it was responsible for all that thrill of -defiance and a beautiful danger that made the good news seem to be -really both good and new. It was in truth against a huge unconscious -usurpation that it raised a revolt, and originally so obscure a revolt. -Olympus still occupied the sky like a motionless cloud moulded into many -mighty forms; philosophy still sat in the high places and even on the -thrones of the kings, when Christ was born in the cave and Christianity -in the catacombs. - -In both cases we may remark the same paradox of revolution; the sense of -something despised and of something feared. The cave in one aspect is -only a hole or corner into which the outcasts are swept like rubbish; -yet in the other aspect it is a hiding-place of something valuable which -the tyrants are seeking like treasure. In one sense they are there -because the innkeeper would not even remember them, and in another -because the king can never forget them. We have already noted that this -paradox appeared also in the treatment of the early Church. It was -important while it was still insignificant, and certainly while it was -still impotent. It was important solely because it was intolerable; and -in that sense it is true to say that it was intolerable because it was -intolerant. It was resented, because, in its own still and almost secret -way, it had declared war. It had risen out of the ground to wreck the -heaven and earth of heathenism. It did not try to destroy all that -creation of gold and marble; but it contemplated a world without it. It -dared to look right through it as though the gold and marble had been -glass. Those who charged the Christians with burning down Rome with -firebrands were slanderers; but they were at least far nearer to the -nature of Christianity than those among the moderns who tell us that the -Christians were a sort of ethical society, being martyred in a languid -fashion for telling men they had a duty to their neighbours, and only -mildly disliked because they were meek and mild. - -Herod had his place, therefore, in the miracle play of Bethlehem because -he is the menace to the Church Militant and shows it from the first as -under persecution and fighting for its life. For those who think this a -discord, it is a discord that sounds simultaneously with the Christmas -bells. For those who think the idea of the Crusade is one that spoils -the idea of the Cross, we can only say that for them the idea of the -Cross is spoiled; the idea of the Cross is spoiled quite literally in -the Cradle. It is not here to the purpose to argue with them on the -abstract ethics of fighting; the purpose in this place is merely to sum -up the combination of ideas that make up the Christian and Catholic -idea, and to note that all of them are already crystallised in the first -Christmas story. They are three distinct and commonly contrasted things -which are nevertheless one thing; but this is the only thing which can -make them one. The first is the human instinct for a heaven that shall -be as literal and almost as local as a home. It is the idea pursued by -all poets and pagans making myths; that a particular place must be the -shrine of the god or the abode of the blest; that fairyland is a land; -or that the return of the ghost must be the resurrection of the body. I -do not here reason about the refusal of rationalism to satisfy this -need. I only say that if the rationalists refuse to satisfy it, the -pagans will not be satisfied. This is present in the story of Bethlehem -and Jerusalem as it is present in the story of Delos and Delphi; and as -it is _not_ present in the whole universe of Lucretius or the whole -universe of Herbert Spencer. The second element is a philosophy _larger_ -than other philosophies; larger than that of Lucretius and infinitely -larger than that of Herbert Spencer. It looks at the world through a -hundred windows where the ancient stoic or the modern agnostic only -looks through one. It sees life with thousands of eyes belonging to -thousands of different sorts of people, where the other is only the -individual standpoint of a stoic or an agnostic. It has something for -all moods of man, it finds work for all kinds of men, it understands -secrets of psychology, it is aware of depths of evil, it is able to -distinguish between real and unreal marvels and miraculous exceptions, -it trains itself in tact about hard cases, all with a multiplicity and -subtlety and imagination about the varieties of life which is far beyond -the bald or breezy platitudes of most ancient or modern moral -philosophy. In a word, there is more in it; it finds more in existence -to think about; it gets more out of life. Masses of this material about -our many-sided life have been added since the time of St. Thomas -Aquinas. But St. Thomas Aquinas alone would have found himself limited -in the world of Confucius or of Comte. And the third point is this: that -while it is local enough for poetry and larger than any other -philosophy, it is also a challenge and a fight. While it is deliberately -broadened to embrace every aspect of truth, it is still stiffly -embattled against every mode of error. It gets every kind of man to -fight for it, it gets every kind of weapon to fight with, it widens its -knowledge of the things that are fought for and against with every art -of curiosity or sympathy; but it never forgets that it is fighting. It -proclaims peace on earth and never forgets why there was war in heaven. - -This is the trinity of truths symbolised here by the three types in the -old Christmas story: the shepherds and the kings and that other king who -warred upon the children. It is simply not true to say that other -religions and philosophies are in this respect its rivals. It is not -true to say that any one of them combines these characters; it is not -true to say that any one of them pretends to combine them. Buddhism may -profess to be equally mystical; it does not even profess to be equally -military. Islam may profess to be equally military; it does not even -profess to be equally metaphysical and subtle. Confucianism may profess -to satisfy the need of the philosophers for order and reason; it does -not even profess to satisfy the need of the mystics for miracle and -sacrament and the consecration of concrete things. There are many -evidences of this presence of a spirit at once universal and unique. One -will serve here which is the symbol of the subject of this chapter; that -no other story, no pagan legend or philosophical anecdote or historical -event, does in fact affect any of us with that peculiar and even -poignant impression produced on us by the word Bethlehem. No other birth -of a god or childhood of a sage seems to us to be Christmas or anything -like Christmas. It is either too cold or too frivolous, or too formal -and classical, or too simple and savage, or too occult and complicated. -Not one of us, whatever his opinions, would ever go to such a scene with -the sense that he was going home. He might admire it because it was -poetical, or because it was philosophical, or any number of other things -in separation; but not because it was itself. The truth is that there is -a quite peculiar and individual character about the hold of this story -on human nature; it is not in its psychological substance at all like a -mere legend or the life of a great man. It does not exactly in the -ordinary sense turn our minds to greatness; to those extensions and -exaggerations of humanity which are turned into gods and heroes, even by -the healthiest sort of hero-worship. It does not exactly work outwards, -adventurously, to the wonders to be found at the ends of the earth. It -is rather something that surprises us from behind, from the hidden and -personal part of our being; like that which can sometimes take us off -our guard in the pathos of small objects or the blind pieties of the -poor. It is rather as if a man had found an inner room in the very heart -of his own house which he had never suspected; and seen a light from -within. It is as if he found something at the back of his own heart that -betrayed him into good. It is not made of what the world would call -strong materials; or rather it is made of materials whose strength is in -that winged levity with which they brush us and pass. It is all that is -in us but a brief tenderness that is there made eternal; all that means -no more than a momentary softening that is in some strange fashion -become a strengthening and a repose; it is the broken speech and the -lost word that are made positive and suspended unbroken; as the strange -kings fade into a far country and the mountains resound no more with the -feet of the shepherds; and only the night and the cavern lie in fold -upon fold over something more human than humanity. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -THE RIDDLES OF THE GOSPEL - - -To understand the nature of this chapter, it is necessary to recur to -the nature of this book. The argument which is meant to be the backbone -of the book is of the kind called the _reductio ad absurdum_. It -suggests that the results of assuming the rationalist thesis are more -irrational than ours; but to prove it we must assume that thesis. Thus -in the first section I often treated man as merely an animal, to show -that the effect was more impossible than if he were treated as an angel. -In the sense in which it was necessary to treat man merely as an animal, -it is necessary to treat Christ merely as a man. I have to suspend my -own beliefs, which are much more positive; and assume this limitation -even in order to remove it. I must try to imagine what would happen to a -man who did really read the story of Christ as the story of a man; and -even of a man of whom he had never heard before. And I wish to point out -that a really impartial reading of that kind would lead, if not -immediately to belief, at least to a bewilderment of which there is -really no solution except in belief. In this chapter, for this reason, I -shall bring in nothing of the spirit of my own creed; I shall exclude -the very style of diction, and even of lettering, which I should think -fitting in speaking in my own person. I am speaking as an imaginary -heathen human being, honestly staring at the Gospel story for the first -time. - -Now it is not at all easy to regard the New Testament as a New -Testament. It is not at all easy to realise the good news as new. Both -for good and evil familiarity fills us with assumptions and -associations; and no man of our civilisation, whatever he thinks of our -religion, can really read the thing as if he had never heard of it -before. Of course it is in any case utterly unhistorical to talk as if -the New Testament were a neatly bound book that had fallen from heaven. -It is simply the selection made by the authority of the Church from a -mass of early Christian literature. But apart from any such question, -there is a psychological difficulty in feeling the New Testament as new. -There is a psychological difficulty in seeing those well-known words -simply as they stand and without going beyond what they intrinsically -stand for. And this difficulty must indeed be very great; for the result -of it is very curious. The result of it is that most modern critics and -most current criticism, even popular criticism, makes a comment that is -the exact reverse of the truth. It is so completely the reverse of the -truth that one could almost suspect that they had never read the New -Testament at all. - -We have all heard people say a hundred times over, for they seem never -to tire of saying it, that the Jesus of the New Testament is indeed a -most merciful and humane lover of humanity, but that the Church has -hidden this human character in repellent dogmas and stiffened it with -ecclesiastical terrors till it has taken on an inhuman character. This -is, I venture to repeat, very nearly the reverse of the truth. The truth -is that it is the image of Christ in the churches that is almost -entirely mild and merciful. It is the image of Christ in the Gospels -that is a good many other things as well. The figure in the Gospels does -indeed utter in words of almost heart-breaking beauty his pity for our -broken hearts. But they are very far from being the only sort of words -that he utters. Nevertheless they are almost the only kind of words that -the Church in its popular imagery ever represents him as uttering. That -popular imagery is inspired by a perfectly sound popular instinct. The -mass of the poor are broken, and the mass of the people are poor, and -for the mass of mankind the main thing is to carry the conviction of the -incredible compassion of God. But nobody with his eyes open can doubt -that it is chiefly this idea of compassion that the popular machinery of -the Church does seek to carry. The popular imagery carries a great deal -to excess the sentiment of ‘Gentle Jesus, meek and mild.’ It is the -first thing that the outsider feels and criticises in a Pietà or a -shrine of the Sacred Heart. As I say, while the art may be insufficient, -I am not sure that the instinct is unsound. In any case there is -something appalling, something that makes the blood run cold, in the -idea of having a statue of Christ in wrath. There is something -insupportable even to the imagination in the idea of turning the corner -of a street or coming out into the spaces of a market-place to meet the -petrifying petrifaction of _that_ figure as it turned upon a generation -of vipers, or that face as it looked at the face of a hypocrite. The -Church can reasonably be justified therefore if she turns the most -merciful face or aspect towards men; but it is certainly the most -merciful aspect that she does turn. And the point is here that it is -very much more specially and exclusively merciful than any impression -that could be formed by a man merely reading the New Testament for the -first time. A man simply taking the words of the story as they stand -would form quite another impression; an impression full of mystery and -possibly of inconsistency; but certainly not merely an impression of -mildness. It would be intensely interesting; but part of the interest -would consist in its leaving a good deal to be guessed at or explained. -It is full of sudden gestures evidently significant except that we -hardly know what they signify; of enigmatic silences; of ironical -replies. The outbreaks of wrath, like storms above our atmosphere, do -not seem to break out exactly where we should expect them, but to follow -some higher weather-chart of their own. The Peter whom popular Church -teaching presents is very rightly the Peter to whom Christ said in -forgiveness, ‘Feed my lambs.’ He is not the Peter upon whom Christ -turned as if he were the devil, crying in that obscure wrath, ‘Get thee -behind me, Satan.’ Christ lamented with nothing but love and pity over -Jerusalem which was to murder him. We do not know what strange spiritual -atmosphere or spiritual insight led him to sink Bethsaida lower in the -pit than Sodom. I am putting aside for the moment all questions of -doctrinal inferences or expositions, orthodox or otherwise; I am simply -imagining the effect on a man’s mind if he did really do what these -critics are always talking about doing; if he did really read the New -Testament without reference to orthodoxy and even without reference to -doctrine. He would find a number of things which fit in far less with -the current unorthodoxy than they do with the current orthodoxy. He -would find, for instance, that if there are any descriptions that -deserved to be called realistic, they are precisely the descriptions of -the supernatural. If there is one aspect of the New Testament Jesus in -which he may be said to present himself eminently as a practical person, -it is in the aspect of an exorcist. There is nothing meek and mild, -there is nothing even in the ordinary sense mystical, about the tone of -the voice that says ‘Hold thy peace and come out of him.’ It is much -more like the tone of a very business-like lion-tamer or a strong-minded -doctor dealing with a homicidal maniac. But this is only a side issue -for the sake of illustration; I am not now raising these controversies; -but considering the case of the imaginary man from the moon to whom the -New Testament is new. - -Now the first thing to note is that if we take it merely as a human -story, it is in some ways a very strange story. I do not refer here to -its tremendous and tragic culmination or to any implications involving -triumph in that tragedy. I do not refer to what is commonly called the -miraculous element; for on that point philosophies vary and modern -philosophies very decidedly waver. Indeed the educated Englishman of -to-day may be said to have passed from an old fashion, in which he would -not believe in any miracles unless they were ancient, and adopted a new -fashion in which he will not believe in any miracles unless they are -modern. He used to hold that miraculous cures stopped with the first -Christians and is now inclined to suspect that they began with the first -Christian Scientists. But I refer here rather specially to unmiraculous -and even to unnoticed and inconspicuous parts of the story. There are a -great many things about it which nobody would have invented, for they -are things that nobody has ever made any particular use of; things which -if they were remarked at all have remained rather as puzzles. For -instance, there is that long stretch of silence in the life of Christ up -to the age of thirty. It is of all silences the most immense and -imaginatively impressive. But it is not the sort of thing that anybody -is particularly likely to invent in order to prove something; and nobody -so far as I know has ever tried to prove anything in particular from it. -It is impressive, but it is only impressive as a fact; there is nothing -particularly popular or obvious about it as a fable. The ordinary trend -of hero-worship and myth-making is much more likely to say the precise -opposite. It is much more likely to say (as I believe some of the -gospels rejected by the Church do say) that Jesus displayed a divine -precocity and began his mission at a miraculously early age. And there -is indeed something strange in the thought that he who of all humanity -needed least preparation seems to have had most. Whether it was some -mode of the divine humility, or some truth of which we see the shadow -in the longer domestic tutelage of the higher creatures of the earth, I -do not propose to speculate; I mention it simply as an example of the -sort of thing that does in any case give rise to speculations, quite -apart from recognised religious speculations. Now the whole story is -full of these things. It is not by any means, as baldly presented in -print, a story that it is easy to get to the bottom of. It is anything -but what these people talk of as a simple Gospel. Relatively speaking, -it is the Gospel that has the mysticism and the Church that has the -rationalism. As I should put it, of course, it is the Gospel that is the -riddle and the Church that is the answer. But whatever be the answer, -the Gospel as it stands is almost a book of riddles. - -First, a man reading the Gospel sayings would not find platitudes. If he -had read even in the most respectful spirit the majority of ancient -philosophers and of modern moralists, he would appreciate the unique -importance of saying that he did not find platitudes. It is more than -can be said even of Plato. It is much more than can be said of Epictetus -or Seneca or Marcus Aurelius or Apollonius of Tyana. And it is -immeasurably more than can be said of most of the agnostic moralists and -the preachers of the ethical societies; with their songs of service and -their religion of brotherhood. The morality of most moralists, ancient -and modern, has been one solid and polished cataract of platitudes -flowing for ever and ever. That would certainly not be the impression of -the imaginary independent outsider studying the New Testament. He would -be conscious of nothing so commonplace and in a sense of nothing so -continuous as that stream. He would find a number of strange claims that -might sound like the claim to be the brother of the sun and moon; a -number of very startling pieces of advice; a number of stunning rebukes; -a number of strangely beautiful stories. He would see some very -gigantesque figures of speech about the impossibility of threading a -needle with a camel or the possibility of throwing a mountain into the -sea. He would see a number of very daring simplifications of the -difficulties of life; like the advice to shine upon everybody -indifferently as does the sunshine or not to worry about the future any -more than the birds. He would find on the other hand some passages of -almost impenetrable darkness, so far as he is concerned, such as the -moral of the parable of the Unjust Steward. Some of these things might -strike him as fables and some as truths; but none as truisms. For -instance, he would not find the ordinary platitudes in favour of peace. -He would find several paradoxes in favour of peace. He would find -several ideals of non-resistance, which taken as they stand would be -rather too pacific for any pacifist. He would be told in one passage to -treat a robber _not_ with passive resistance, but rather with positive -and enthusiastic encouragement, if the terms be taken literally; heaping -up gifts upon the man who had stolen goods. But he would not find a word -of all that obvious rhetoric against war which has filled countless -books and odes and orations; not a word about the wickedness of war, the -wastefulness of war, the appalling scale of the slaughter in war and all -the rest of the familiar frenzy; indeed not a word about war at all. -There is nothing that throws any particular light on Christ’s attitude -towards organised warfare, except that he seems to have been rather fond -of Roman soldiers. Indeed it is another perplexity, speaking from the -same external and human standpoint, that he seems to have got on much -better with Romans than he did with Jews. But the question here is a -certain tone to be appreciated by merely reading a certain text; and we -might give any number of instances of it. - -The statement that the meek shall inherit the earth is very far from -being a meek statement. I mean it is not meek in the ordinary sense of -mild and moderate and inoffensive. To justify it, it would be necessary -to go very deep into history and anticipate things undreamed of then and -by many unrealised even now; such as the way in which the mystical monks -reclaimed the lands which the practical kings had lost. If it was a -truth at all, it was because it was a prophecy. But certainly it was not -a truth in the sense of a truism. The blessing upon the meek would seem -to be a very violent statement; in the sense of doing violence to reason -and probability. And with this we come to another important stage in the -speculation. As a prophecy it really was fulfilled; but it was only -fulfilled long afterwards. The monasteries were the most practical and -prosperous estates and experiments in reconstruction after the barbaric -deluge; the meek did really inherit the earth. But nobody could have -known anything of the sort at the time--unless indeed there was one who -knew. Something of the same thing may be said about the incident of -Martha and Mary; which has been interpreted in retrospect and from the -inside by the mystics of the Christian contemplative life. But it was -not at all an obvious view of it; and most moralists, ancient and -modern, could be trusted to make a rush for the obvious. What torrents -of effortless eloquence would have flowed from them to swell any slight -superiority on the part of Martha; what splendid sermons about the Joy -of Service and the Gospel of Work and the World Left Better Than We -Found It, and generally all the ten thousand platitudes that can be -uttered in favour of taking trouble--by people who need take no trouble -to utter them. If in Mary the mystic and child of love Christ was -guarding the seed of something more subtle, who was likely to understand -it at the time? Nobody else could have seen Clare and Catherine and -Teresa shining above the little roof at Bethany. It is so in another way -with that magnificent menace about bringing into the world a sword to -sunder and divide. Nobody could have guessed then either how it could -be fulfilled or how it could be justified. Indeed some freethinkers are -still so simple as to fall into the trap and be shocked at a phrase so -deliberately defiant. They actually complain of the paradox for not -being a platitude. - -But the point here is that if we _could_ read the Gospel reports as -things as new as newspaper reports, they would puzzle us and perhaps -terrify us much _more_ than the same things as developed by historical -Christianity. For instance; Christ after a clear allusion to the eunuchs -of eastern courts, said there would be eunuchs of the kingdom of heaven. -If this does not mean the voluntary enthusiasm of virginity, it could -only be made to mean something much more unnatural or uncouth. It is the -historical religion that humanises it for us by experience of -Franciscans or of Sisters of Mercy. The mere statement standing by -itself might very well suggest a rather dehumanised atmosphere; the -sinister and inhuman silence of the Asiatic harem and divan. This is but -one instance out of scores; but the moral is that the Christ of the -Gospel might actually seem more strange and terrible than the Christ of -the Church. - -I am dwelling on the dark or dazzling or defiant or mysterious side of -the Gospel words, not because they had not obviously a more obvious and -popular side, but because this is the answer to a common criticism on a -vital point. The freethinker frequently says that Jesus of Nazareth was -a man of his time, even if he was in advance of his time; and that we -cannot accept his ethics as final for humanity. The freethinker then -goes on to criticise his ethics, saying plausibly enough that men cannot -turn the other cheek, or that they must take thought for the morrow, or -that the self-denial is too ascetic or the monogamy too severe. But the -Zealots and the Legionaries did not turn the other cheek any more than -we do, if so much. The Jewish traders and Roman tax-gatherers took -thought for the morrow as much as we, if not more. We cannot pretend to -be abandoning the morality of the past for one more suited to the -present. It is certainly not the morality of another age, but it might -be of another world. - -In short, we can say that these ideals are impossible in themselves. -Exactly what we cannot say is that they are impossible for us. They are -rather notably marked by a mysticism which, if it be a sort of madness, -would always have struck the same sort of people as mad. Take, for -instance, the case of marriage and the relations of the sexes. It might -very well have been true that a Galilean teacher taught things natural -to a Galilean environment; but it is not. It might rationally be -expected that a man in the time of Tiberius would have advanced a view -conditioned by the time of Tiberius; but he did not. What he advanced -was something quite different; something very difficult; but something -no more difficult now than it was then. When, for instance, Mahomet made -his polygamous compromise we may reasonably say that it was conditioned -by a polygamous society. When he allowed a man four wives he was really -doing something suited to the circumstances, which might have been less -suited to other circumstances. Nobody will pretend that the four wives -were like the four winds, something seemingly a part of the order of -nature; nobody will say that the figure four was written for ever in -stars upon the sky. But neither will any one say that the figure four is -an inconceivable ideal; that it is beyond the power of the mind of man -to count up to four; or to count the number of his wives and see whether -it amounts to four. It is a practical compromise carrying with it the -character of a particular society. If Mahomet had been born in Acton in -the nineteenth century, we may well doubt whether he would instantly -have filled that suburb with harems of four wives apiece. As he was born -in Arabia in the sixth century, he did in his conjugal arrangements -suggest the conditions of Arabia in the sixth century. But Christ in his -view of marriage does not in the least suggest the conditions of -Palestine in the first century. He does not suggest anything at all, -except the sacramental view of marriage as developed long afterwards by -the Catholic Church. It was quite as difficult for people then as for -people now. It was much more puzzling to people then than to people now. -Jews and Romans and Greeks did not believe, and did not even understand -enough to disbelieve, the mystical idea that the man and the woman had -become one sacramental substance. We may think it an incredible or -impossible ideal; but we cannot think it any more incredible or -impossible than they would have thought it. In other words, whatever -else is true, it is not true that the controversy has been altered by -time. Whatever else is true, it is emphatically not true that the ideas -of Jesus of Nazareth were suitable to his time, but are no longer -suitable to our time. Exactly how suitable they were to his time is -perhaps suggested in the end of his story. - -The same truth might be stated in another way by saying that if the -story be regarded as merely human and historical, it is extraordinary -how very little there is in the recorded words of Christ that ties him -at all to his own time. I do not mean the details of a period, which -even a man of the period knows to be passing. I mean the fundamentals -which even the wisest man often vaguely assumes to be eternal. For -instance, Aristotle was perhaps the wisest and most wide-minded man who -ever lived. He founded himself entirely upon fundamentals, which have -been generally found to remain rational and solid through all social and -historical changes. Still, he lived in a world in which it was thought -as natural to have slaves as to have children. And therefore he did -permit himself a serious recognition of a difference between slaves and -free men. Christ as much as Aristotle lived in a world that took slavery -for granted. He did not particularly denounce slavery. He started a -movement that could exist in a world with slavery. But he started a -movement that could exist in a world without slavery. He never used a -phrase that made his philosophy depend even upon the very existence of -the social order in which he lived. He spoke as one conscious that -everything was ephemeral, including the things that Aristotle thought -eternal. By that time the Roman Empire had come to be merely the _orbis -terrarum_, another name for the world. But he never made his morality -dependent on the existence of the Roman Empire or even on the existence -of the world. ‘Heaven and earth shall pass away; but my words shall not -pass away.’ - -The truth is that when critics have spoken of the local limitations of -the Galilean, it has always been a case of the local limitations of the -critics. He did undoubtedly believe in certain things that one -particular modern sect of materialists do not believe. But they were not -things particularly peculiar to his time. It would be nearer the truth -to say that the denial of them is quite peculiar to our time. Doubtless -it would be nearer still to the truth to say merely that a certain -solemn social importance, in the minority disbelieving them, is peculiar -to our time. He believed, for instance, in evil spirits or in the -psychic healing of bodily ills; but not because he was a Galilean born -under Augustus. It is absurd to say that a man believed things because -he was a Galilean under Augustus when he might have believed the same -things if he had been an Egyptian under Tuten-kamen or an Indian under -Gengis Khan. But with this general question of the philosophy of -diabolism or of divine miracles I deal elsewhere. It is enough to say -that the materialists have to prove the impossibility of miracles -against the testimony of all mankind, not against the prejudices of -provincials in North Palestine under the first Roman Emperors. What they -have to prove, for the present argument, is the presence in the Gospels -of those particular prejudices of those particular provincials. And, -humanly speaking, it is astonishing how little they can produce even to -make a beginning of proving it. - -So it is in this case of the sacrament of marriage. We may not believe -in sacraments, as we may not believe in spirits, but it is quite clear -that Christ believed in this sacrament in his own way and not in any -current or contemporary way. He certainly did not get his argument -against divorce from the Mosaic law or the Roman law or the habits of -the Palestinian people. It would appear to his critics then exactly what -it appears to his critics now; an arbitrary and transcendental dogma -coming from nowhere save in the sense that it came from him. I am not at -all concerned here to defend that dogma; the point here is that it is -just as easy to defend it now as it was to defend it then. It is an -ideal altogether outside time; difficult at any period; impossible at no -period. In other words, if any one says it is what might be expected of -a man walking about in that place at that period, we can quite fairly -answer that it is much _more_ like what might be the mysterious -utterance of a being beyond man, if he walked alive among men. - -I maintain therefore that a man reading the New Testament frankly and -freshly would _not_ get the impression of what is now often meant by a -human Christ. The merely human Christ is a made-up figure, a piece of -artificial selection, like the merely evolutionary man. Moreover there -have been too many of these human Christs found in the same story, just -as there have been too many keys to mythology found in the same stories. -Three or four separate schools of rationalism have worked over the -ground and produced three or four equally rational explanations of his -life. The first rational explanation of his life was that he never -lived. And this in turn gave an opportunity for three or four different -explanations; as that he was a sun-myth or a corn-myth, or any other -kind of myth that is also a monomania. Then the idea that he was a -divine being who did not exist gave place to the idea that he was a -human being who did exist. In my youth it was the fashion to say that he -was merely an ethical teacher in the manner of the Essenes, who had -apparently nothing very much to say that Hillel or a hundred other Jews -might not have said; as that it is a kindly thing to be kind and an -assistance to purification to be pure. Then somebody said he was a -madman with a Messianic delusion. Then others said he was indeed an -original teacher because he cared about nothing but Socialism; or (as -others said) about nothing but Pacifism. Then a more grimly scientific -character appeared who said that Jesus would never have been heard of at -all except for his prophecies of the end of the world. He was important -merely as a Millennarian like Dr. Cumming; and created a provincial -scare by announcing the exact date of the crack of doom. Among other -variants on the same theme was the theory that he was a spiritual healer -and nothing else; a view implied by Christian Science, which has really -to expound a Christianity without the Crucifixion in order to explain -the curing of Peter’s wife’s mother or the daughter of a centurion. -There is another theory that concentrates entirely on the business of -diabolism and what it would call the contemporary superstition about -demoniacs; as if Christ, like a young deacon taking his first orders, -had got as far as exorcism and never got any further. Now each of these -explanations in itself seems to me singularly inadequate; but taken -together they do suggest something of the very mystery which they miss. -There must surely have been something not only mysterious but many-sided -about Christ if so many smaller Christs can be carved out of him. If the -Christian Scientist is satisfied with him as a spiritual healer and the -Christian Socialist is satisfied with him as a social reformer, so -satisfied that they do not even expect him to be anything else, it looks -as if he really covered rather more ground than they could be expected -to expect. And it does seem to suggest that there might be more than -they fancy in these other mysterious attributes of casting out devils or -prophesying doom. - -Above all, would not such a new reader of the New Testament stumble over -something that would startle him much more than it startles us? I have -here more than once attempted the rather impossible task of reversing -time and the historic method; and in fancy looking forward to the facts, -instead of backward through the memories. So I have imagined the monster -that man might have seemed at first to the mere nature around him. We -should have a worse shock if we really imagined the nature of Christ -named for the first time. What should we feel at the first whisper of a -certain suggestion about a certain man? Certainly it is not for us to -blame anybody who should find that first wild whisper merely impious and -insane. On the contrary, stumbling on that rock of scandal is the first -step. Stark staring incredulity is a far more loyal tribute to that -truth than a modernist metaphysic that would make it out merely a matter -of degree. It were better to rend our robes with a great cry against -blasphemy, like Caiaphas in the judgment, or to lay hold of the man as a -maniac possessed of devils like the kinsmen and the crowd, rather than -to stand stupidly debating fine shades of pantheism in the presence of -so catastrophic a claim. There is more of the wisdom that is one with -surprise in any simple person, full of the sensitiveness of simplicity, -who should expect the grass to wither and the birds to drop dead out of -the air, when a strolling carpenter’s apprentice said calmly and almost -carelessly, like one looking over his shoulder: ‘Before Abraham was, I -am.’ - - - - -CHAPTER III - -THE STRANGEST STORY IN THE WORLD - - -In the last chapter I have deliberately stressed what seems to be -nowadays a neglected side of the New Testament story, but nobody will -suppose, I imagine, that it is meant to obscure that side that may truly -be called human. That Christ was and is the most merciful of judges and -the most sympathetic of friends is a fact of considerably more -importance in our own private lives than in anybody’s historical -speculations. But the purpose of this book is to point out that -something unique has been swamped in cheap generalisations; and for that -purpose it is relevant to insist that even what was most universal was -also most original. For instance, we might take a topic which really is -sympathetic to the modern mood, as the ascetic vocations recently -referred to are not. The exaltation of childhood is something which we -do really understand; but it was by no means a thing that was then in -that sense understood. If we wanted an example of the originality of the -Gospel, we could hardly take a stronger or more startling one. Nearly -two thousand years afterwards we happen to find ourselves in a mood that -does really feel the mystical charm of the child; we express it in -romances and regrets about childhood, in _Peter Pan_ or _The Child’s -Garden of Verses_. And we can say of the words of Christ with so angry -an anti-Christian as Swinburne:-- - - ‘No sign that ever was given - To faithful or faithless eyes - Showed ever beyond clouds riven - So clear a paradise. - - Earth’s creeds may be seventy times seven - And blood have defiled each creed, - But if such be the kingdom of heaven - It must be heaven indeed.’ - -But that paradise was not clear until Christianity had gradually cleared -it. The pagan world, as such, would not have understood any such thing -as a serious suggestion that a child is higher or holier than a man. It -would have seemed like the suggestion that a tadpole is higher or holier -than a frog. To the merely rationalistic mind, it would sound like -saying that a bud must be more beautiful than a flower or that an unripe -apple must be better than a ripe one. In other words, this modern -feeling is an entirely mystical feeling. It is quite as mystical as the -cult of virginity; in fact it is the cult of virginity. But pagan -antiquity had much more idea of the holiness of the virgin than of the -holiness of the child. For various reasons we have come nowadays to -venerate children; perhaps partly because we envy children for still -doing what men used to do; such as play simple games and enjoy -fairy-tales. Over and above this, however, there is a great deal of real -and subtle psychology in our appreciation of childhood; but if we turn -it into a modern discovery, we must once more admit that the historical -Jesus of Nazareth had already discovered it two thousand years too soon. -There was certainly nothing in the world around him to help him to the -discovery. Here Christ was indeed human; but more human than a human -being was then likely to be. Peter Pan does not belong to the world of -Pan but the world of Peter. - -Even in the matter of mere literary style, if we suppose ourselves thus -sufficiently detached to look at it in that light, there is a curious -quality to which no critic seems to have done justice. It had among -other things a singular air of piling tower upon tower by the use of the -_a fortiori_; making a pagoda of degrees like the seven heavens. I have -already noted that almost inverted imaginative vision which pictured -the impossible penance of the Cities of the Plain. There is perhaps -nothing so perfect in all language or literature as the use of these -three degrees in the parable of the lilies of the field; in which he -seems first to take one small flower in his hand and note its simplicity -and even its impotence; then suddenly expands it in flamboyant colours -into all the palaces and pavilions full of a great name in national -legend and national glory; and then, by yet a third overturn, shrivels -it to nothing once more with a gesture as if flinging it away ’... and -if God so clothes the grass that to-day is and to-morrow is cast into -the oven--how much more....’ It is like the building of a good Babel -tower by white magic in a moment and in the movement of a hand; a tower -heaved suddenly up to heaven on the top of which can be seen afar off, -higher than we had fancied possible, the figure of man; lifted by three -infinities above all other things, on a starry ladder of light logic and -swift imagination. Merely in a literary sense it would be more of a -masterpiece than most of the masterpieces in the libraries; yet it seems -to have been uttered almost at random while a man might pull a flower. -But merely in a literary sense also, this use of the comparative in -several degrees has about it a quality which seems to me to hint of much -higher things than the modern suggestion of the simple teaching of -pastoral or communal ethics. There is nothing that really indicates a -subtle and in the true sense a superior mind so much as this power of -comparing a lower thing with a higher and yet that higher with a higher -still; of thinking on three planes at once. There is nothing that wants -the rarest sort of wisdom so much as to see, let us say, that the -citizen is higher than the slave and yet that the soul is infinitely -higher than the citizen or the city. It is not by any means a faculty -that commonly belongs to these simplifiers of the Gospel; those who -insist on what they call a simple morality and others call a sentimental -morality. It is not at all covered by those who are content to tell -everybody to remain at peace. On the contrary, there is a very striking -example of it in the apparent inconsistency between Christ’s sayings -about peace and about a sword. It is precisely this power which -perceives that while a good peace is better than a good war, even a good -war is better than a bad peace. These far-flung comparisons are nowhere -so common as in the Gospels; and to me they suggest something very vast. -So a thing solitary and solid, with the added dimension of depth or -height, might tower over the flat creatures living only on a plane. - -This quality of something that can only be called subtle and superior, -something that is capable of long views and even of double meanings, is -not noted here merely as a counterblast to the commonplace exaggerations -of amiability and mild idealism. It is also to be noted in connection -with the more tremendous truth touched upon at the end of the last -chapter. For this is the very last character that commonly goes with -mere megalomania; especially such steep and staggering megalomania as -might be involved in that claim. This quality that can only be called -intellectual distinction is not, of course, an evidence of divinity. But -it is an evidence of a probable distaste for vulgar and vainglorious -claims to divinity. A man of that sort, if he were only a man, would be -the last man in the world to suffer from that intoxication by one notion -from nowhere in particular, which is the mark of the self-deluding -sensationalist in religion. Nor is it even avoided by denying that -Christ did make this claim. Of no such man as that, of no other prophet -or philosopher of the same intellectual order, would it be even possible -to pretend that he had made it. Even if the Church had mistaken his -meaning, it would still be true that no other historical tradition -except the Church had ever even made the same mistake. Mahomedans did -not misunderstand Mahomet and suppose he was Allah. Jews did not -misinterpret Moses and identify him with Jehovah. Why was this claim -alone exaggerated unless this alone was made? Even if Christianity was -one vast universal blunder, it is still a blunder as solitary as the -Incarnation. - -The purpose of these pages is to fix the falsity of certain vague and -vulgar assumptions; and we have here one of the most false. There is a -sort of notion in the air everywhere that all the religions are equal -because all the religious founders were rivals; that they are all -fighting for the same starry crown. It is quite false. The claim to that -crown, or anything like that crown, is really so rare as to be unique. -Mahomet did not make it any more than Micah or Malachi. Confucius did -not make it any more than Plato or Marcus Aurelius. Buddha never said he -was Bramah. Zoroaster no more claimed to be Ormuz than to be Ahriman. -The truth is that, in the common run of cases, it is just as we should -expect it to be, in common sense and certainly in Christian philosophy. -It is exactly the other way. Normally speaking, the greater a man is, -the less likely he is to make the very greatest claim. Outside the -unique case we are considering, the only kind of man who ever does make -that kind of claim is a very small man; a secretive or self-centred -monomaniac. Nobody can imagine Aristotle claiming to be the father of -gods and men, come down from the sky; though we might imagine some -insane Roman Emperor like Caligula claiming it for him, or more probably -for himself. Nobody can imagine Shakespeare talking as if he were -literally divine; though we might imagine some crazy American crank -finding it as a cryptogram in Shakespeare’s works, or preferably in his -own works. It is possible to find here and there human beings who make -this supremely superhuman claim. It is possible to find them in lunatic -asylums; in padded cells; possibly in strait waistcoats. But what is -much more important than their mere materialistic fate in our very -materialistic society, under very crude and clumsy laws about lunacy, -the type we know as tinged with this, or tending towards it, is a -diseased and disproportionate type; narrow yet swollen and morbid to -monstrosity. It is by rather an unlucky metaphor that we talk of a -madman as cracked; for in a sense he is not cracked enough. He is -cramped rather than cracked; there are not enough holes in his head to -ventilate it. This impossibility of letting in daylight on a delusion -does sometimes cover and conceal a delusion of divinity. It can be -found, not among prophets and sages and founders of religions, but only -among a low set of lunatics. But this is exactly where the argument -becomes intensely interesting; because the argument proves too much. For -nobody supposes that Jesus of Nazareth was _that_ sort of person. No -modern critic in his five wits thinks that the preacher of the Sermon on -the Mount was a horrible half-witted imbecile that might be scrawling -stars on the walls of a cell. No atheist or blasphemer believes that the -author of the Parable of the Prodigal Son was a monster with one mad -idea like a cyclops with one eye. Upon any possible historical criticism -he must be put higher in the scale of human beings than that. Yet by all -analogy we have really to put him there or else in the highest place of -all. - -In fact, those who can really take it (as I here hypothetically take it) -in a quite dry and detached spirit, have here a most curious and -interesting human problem. It is so intensely interesting, considered as -a human problem, that it is in a spirit quite disinterested, so to -speak, that I wish some of them had turned that intricate human problem -into something like an intelligible human portrait. If Christ was simply -a human character, he really was a highly complex and contradictory -human character. For he combined exactly the two things that lie at the -two extremes of human variation. He was exactly what the man with a -delusion never is: he was wise; he was a good judge. What he said was -always unexpected; but it was always unexpectedly magnanimous and often -unexpectedly moderate. Take a thing like the point of the parable of the -tares and the wheat. It has the quality that unites sanity and subtlety. -It has not the simplicity of a madman. It has not even the simplicity of -a fanatic. It might be uttered by a philosopher a hundred years old, at -the end of a century of Utopias. Nothing could be less like this quality -of seeing beyond and all round obvious things, than the condition of the -egomaniac with the one sensitive spot on his brain. I really do not see -how these two characters could be convincingly combined, except in the -astonishing way in which the creed combines them. For until we reach the -full acceptance of the fact as a fact, however marvellous, all mere -approximations to it are actually further and further away from it. -Divinity is great enough to be divine; it is great enough to call itself -divine. But as humanity grows greater, it grows less and less likely to -do so. God is God, as the Moslems say; but a great man knows he is not -God, and the greater he is the better he knows it. That is the paradox; -everything that is merely approaching to that point is merely receding -from it. Socrates, the wisest man, knows that he knows nothing. A -lunatic may think he is omniscience, and a fool may talk as if he were -omniscient. But Christ is in another sense omniscient if he not only -knows, but knows that he knows. - -Even on the purely human and sympathetic side, therefore, the Jesus of -the New Testament seems to me to have in a great many ways the note of -something superhuman; that is, of something human and more than human. -But there is another quality running through all his teachings which -seems to me neglected in most modern talk about them as teachings; and -that is the persistent suggestion that he has not really come to teach. -If there is one incident in the record which affects me personally as -grandly and gloriously human, it is the incident of giving wine for the -wedding-feast. That is really human in the sense in which a whole crowd -of prigs, having the appearance of human beings, can hardly be described -as human. It rises superior to all superior persons. It is as human as -Herrick and as democratic as Dickens. But even in that story there is -something else that has that note of things not fully explained; and in -a way here very relevant. I mean the first hesitation, not on any ground -touching the nature of the miracle, but on that of the propriety of -working any miracles at all, at least at that stage; ‘My time is not yet -come.’ What did that mean? At least it certainly meant a general plan or -purpose in the mind, with which certain things did or did not fit in. -And if we leave out that solitary strategic plan, we not only leave out -the point of the story, but the story. - -We often hear of Jesus of Nazareth as a wandering teacher; and there is -a vital truth in that view in so far as it emphasises an attitude -towards luxury and convention which most respectable people would still -regard as that of a vagabond. It is expressed in his own great saying -about the holes of the foxes and the nests of the birds, and, like many -of his great sayings, it is felt as less powerful than it is, through -lack of appreciation of that great paradox by which he spoke of his own -humanity as in some way collectively and representatively human; calling -himself simply the Son of Man; that is, in effect, calling himself -simply Man. It is fitting that the New Man or the Second Adam should -repeat in so ringing a voice and with so arresting a gesture the great -fact which came first in the original story: that man differs from the -brutes by everything, even by deficiency; that he is in a sense less -normal and even less native; a stranger upon the earth. It is well to -speak of his wanderings in this sense and in the sense that he shared -the drifting life of the most homeless and hopeless of the poor. It is -assuredly well to remember that he would quite certainly have been moved -on by the police, and almost certainly arrested by the police, for -having no visible means of subsistence. For our law has in it a turn of -humour or touch of fancy which Nero and Herod never happened to think -of; that of actually punishing homeless people for not sleeping at home. - -But in another sense the word ‘wandering’ as applied to his life is a -little misleading. As a matter of fact, a great many of the pagan sages -and not a few of the pagan sophists might truly be described as -wandering teachers. In some of them their rambling journeys were not -altogether without a parallel in their rambling remarks. Apollonius of -Tyana, who figured in some fashionable cults as a sort of ideal -philosopher, is represented as rambling as far as the Ganges and -Ethiopia, more or less talking all the time. There was actually a school -of philosophers called the Peripatetics; and most even of the great -philosophers give us a vague impression of having very little to do -except to walk and talk. The great conversations which give us our -glimpses of the great minds of Socrates or Buddha or even Confucius -often seem to be parts of a never-ending picnic; and especially, which -is the important point, to have neither beginning nor end. Socrates did -indeed find the conversation interrupted by the incident of his -execution. But it is the whole point, and the whole particular merit, of -the position of Socrates that death was only an interruption and an -incident. We miss the real moral importance of the great philosopher if -we miss that point; that he stares at the executioner with an innocent -surprise, and almost an innocent annoyance, at finding any one so -unreasonable as to cut short a little conversation for the elucidation -of truth. He is looking for truth and not looking for death. Death is -but a stone in the road which can trip him up. His work in life is to -wander on the roads of the world and talk about truth for ever. Buddha, -on the other hand, did arrest attention by one gesture; it was the -gesture of renunciation, and therefore in a sense of denial. But by one -dramatic negation he passed into a world of negation that was not -dramatic; which he would have been the first to insist was not dramatic. -Here again we miss the particular moral importance of the great mystic -if we do not see the distinction; that it was his whole point that he -had done with drama, which consists of desire and struggle and generally -of defeat and disappointment. He passes into peace and lives to instruct -others how to pass into it. Henceforth his life is that of the ideal -philosopher; certainly a far more really ideal philosopher than -Apollonius of Tyana; but still a philosopher in the sense that it is not -his business to do anything but rather to explain everything; in his -case, we might almost say, mildly and softly to explode everything. For -the messages are basically different. Christ said ‘Seek first the -kingdom, and all these things shall be added unto you.’ Buddha said -‘Seek first the kingdom, and then you will need none of these things.’ - -Now, compared to these wanderers the life of Jesus went as swift and -straight as a thunderbolt. It was above all things dramatic; it did -above all things consist in doing something that had to be done. It -emphatically would not have been done if Jesus had walked about the -world for ever doing nothing except tell the truth. And even the -external movement of it must not be described as a wandering in the -sense of forgetting that it was a journey. This is where it was a -fulfilment of the myths rather than of the philosophies; it is a -journey with a goal and an object, like Jason going to find the Golden -Fleece, or Hercules the golden apples of the Hesperides. The gold that -he was seeking was death. The primary thing that he was going to do was -to die. He was going to do other things equally definite and objective; -we might almost say equally external and material. But from first to -last the most definite fact is that he is going to die. No two things -could possibly be more different than the death of Socrates and the -death of Christ. We are meant to feel that the death of Socrates was, -from the point of view of his friends at least, a stupid muddle and -miscarriage of justice interfering with the flow of a humane and lucid, -I had almost said a light philosophy. We are meant to feel that Death -was the bride of Christ as Poverty was the bride of St. Francis. We are -meant to feel that his life was in that sense a sort of love-affair with -death, a romance of the pursuit of the ultimate sacrifice. From the -moment when the star goes up like a birthday rocket to the moment when -the sun is extinguished like a funeral torch, the whole story moves on -wings with the speed and direction of a drama, ending in an act beyond -words. - -Therefore the story of Christ is the story of a journey, almost in the -manner of a military march; certainly in the manner of the quest of a -hero moving to his achievement or his doom. It is a story that begins in -the paradise of Galilee, a pastoral and peaceful land having really some -hint of Eden, and gradually climbs the rising country into the mountains -that are nearer to the storm-clouds and the stars, as to a Mountain of -Purgatory. He may be met as if straying in strange places, or stopped on -the way for discussion or dispute; but his face is set towards the -mountain city. That is the meaning of that great culmination when he -crested the ridge and stood at the turning of the road and suddenly -cried aloud, lamenting over Jerusalem. Some light touch of that lament -is in every patriotic poem; or if it is absent, the patriotism stinks -with vulgarity. That is the meaning of the stirring and startling -incident at the gates of the Temple, when the tables were hurled like -lumber down the steps, and the rich merchants driven forth with bodily -blows; the incident that must be at least as much of a puzzle to the -pacifists as any paradox about non-resistance can be to any of the -militarists. I have compared the quest to the journey of Jason, but we -must never forget that in a deeper sense it is rather to be compared to -the journey of Ulysses. It was not only a romance of travel but a -romance of return; and of the end of a usurpation. No healthy boy -reading the story regards the rout of the Ithacan suitors as anything -but a happy ending. But there are doubtless some who regard the rout of -the Jewish merchants and moneychangers with that refined repugnance -which never fails to move them in the presence of violence, and -especially of violence against the well-to-do. The point here, however, -is that all these incidents have in them a character of mounting crisis. -In other words, these incidents are not incidental. When Apollonius the -ideal philosopher is brought before the judgment-seat of Domitian and -vanishes by magic, the miracle is entirely incidental. It might have -occurred at any time in the wandering life of the Tyanean; indeed, I -believe it is doubtful in date as well as in substance. The ideal -philosopher merely vanished, and resumed his ideal existence somewhere -else for an indefinite period. It is characteristic of the contrast -perhaps that Apollonius was supposed to have lived to an almost -miraculous old age. Jesus of Nazareth was less prudent in his miracles. -When Jesus was brought before the judgment-seat of Pontius Pilate, he -did not vanish. It was the crisis and the goal; it was the hour and the -power of darkness. It was the supremely supernatural act, of all his -miraculous life, that he did not vanish. - -Every attempt to amplify that story has diminished it. The task has been -attempted by many men of real genius and eloquence as well as by only -too many vulgar sentimentalists and self-conscious rhetoricians. The -tale has been retold with patronising pathos by elegant sceptics and -with fluent enthusiasm by boisterous best-sellers. It will not be retold -here. The grinding power of the plain words of the Gospel story is like -the power of mill-stones; and those who can read them simply enough will -feel as if rocks had been rolled upon them. Criticism is only words -about words; and of what use are words about such words as these? What -is the use of word-painting about the dark garden filled suddenly with -torchlight and furious faces? ‘Are you come out with swords and staves -as against a robber? All day I sat in your temple teaching, and you took -me not.’ Can anything be added to the massive and gathered restraint of -that irony; like a great wave lifted to the sky and refusing to fall? -‘Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me, but weep for yourselves and -for your children.’ As the High Priest asked what further need he had of -witnesses, we might well ask what further need we have of words. Peter -in a panic repudiated him: ‘and immediately the cock crew; and Jesus -looked upon Peter, and Peter went out and wept bitterly.’ Has any one -any further remarks to offer? Just before the murder he prayed for all -the murderous race of men, saying, ‘They know not what they do’; is -there anything to say to that, except that we know as little what we -say? Is there any need to repeat and spin out the story of how the -tragedy trailed up the Via Dolorosa and how they threw him in haphazard -with two thieves in one of the ordinary batches of execution; and how in -all that horror and howling wilderness of desertion one voice spoke in -homage, a startling voice from the very last place where it was looked -for, the gibbet of the criminal; and he said to that nameless ruffian, -‘This night shalt thou be with me in Paradise’? Is there anything to put -after that but a full-stop? Or is any one prepared to answer adequately -that farewell gesture to all flesh which created for his Mother a new -Son? - -It is more within my powers, and here more immediately to my purpose, to -point out that in that scene were symbolically gathered all the human -forces that have been vaguely sketched in this story. As kings and -philosophers and the popular element had been symbolically present at -his birth, so they were more practically concerned in his death; and -with that we come face to face with the essential fact to be realised. -All the great groups that stood about the Cross represent in one way or -another the great historical truth of the time; that the world could not -save itself. Man could do no more. Rome and Jerusalem and Athens and -everything else were going down like a sea turned into a slow cataract. -Externally indeed the ancient world was still at its strongest; it is -always at that moment that the inmost weakness begins. But in order to -understand that weakness we must repeat what has been said more than -once: that it was not the weakness of a thing originally weak. It was -emphatically the strength of the world that was turned to weakness, and -the wisdom of the world that was turned to folly. - -In this story of Good Friday it is the best things in the world that are -at their worst. That is what really shows us the world at its worst. It -was, for instance, the priests of a true monotheism and the soldiers of -an international civilisation. Rome, the legend, founded upon fallen -Troy and triumphant over fallen Carthage, had stood for a heroism which -was the nearest that any pagan ever came to chivalry. Rome had defended -the household gods and the human decencies against the ogres of Africa -and the hermaphrodite monstrosities of Greece. But in the lightning -flash of this incident, we see great Rome, the imperial republic, going -downward under her Lucretian doom. Scepticism has eaten away even the -confident sanity of the conquerors of the world. He who is enthroned to -say what is justice can only ask, ‘What is truth?’ So in that drama -which decided the whole fate of antiquity, one of the central figures is -fixed in what seems the reverse of his true rôle. Rome was almost -another name for responsibility. Yet he stands for ever as a sort of -rocking statue of the irresponsible. Man could do no more. Even the -practical had become the impracticable. Standing between the pillars of -his own judgment-seat, a Roman had washed his hands of the world. - -There too were the priests of that pure and original truth that was -behind all the mythologies like the sky behind the clouds. It was the -most important truth in the world; and even that could not save the -world. Perhaps there is something overpowering in pure personal theism; -like seeing the sun and moon and sky come together to form one staring -face. Perhaps the truth is too tremendous when not broken by some -intermediaries, divine or human; perhaps it is merely too pure and far -away. Anyhow it could not save the world; it could not even convert the -world. There were philosophers who held it in its highest and noblest -form; but they not only could not convert the world, but they never -tried. You could no more fight the jungle of popular mythology with a -private opinion than you could clear away a forest with a pocket-knife. -The Jewish priests had guarded it jealously in the good and the bad -sense. They had kept it as a gigantic secret. As savage heroes might -have kept the sun in a box, they kept the Everlasting in the tabernacle. -They were proud that they alone could look upon the blinding sun of a -single deity; and they did not know that they had themselves gone blind. -Since that day their representatives have been like blind men in broad -daylight, striking to right and left with their staffs, and cursing the -darkness. But there has been that in their monumental monotheism that it -has at least remained like a monument, the last thing of its kind, and -in a sense motionless in the more restless world which it cannot -satisfy. For it is certain that for some reason it cannot satisfy. Since -that day it has never been quite enough to say that God is in his heaven -and all is right with the world; since the rumour that God had left his -heavens to set it right. - -And as it was with these powers that were good, or at least had once -been good, so it was with the element which was perhaps the best, or -which Christ himself seems certainly to have felt as the best. The poor -to whom he preached the good news, the common people who heard him -gladly, the populace that had made so many popular heroes and demigods -in the old pagan world, showed also the weaknesses that were dissolving -the world. They suffered the evils often seen in the mob of the city, -and especially the mob of the capital, during the decline of a society. -The same thing that makes the rural population live on tradition makes -the urban population live on rumour. Just as its myths at the best had -been irrational, so its likes and dislikes are easily changed by -baseless assertion that is arbitrary without being authoritative. Some -brigand or other was artificially turned into a picturesque and popular -figure and run as a kind of candidate against Christ. In all this we -recognise the urban population that we know, with its newspaper scares -and scoops. But there was present in this ancient population an evil -more peculiar to the ancient world. We have noted it already as the -neglect of the individual, even of the individual voting the -condemnation and still more of the individual condemned. It was the soul -of the hive; a heathen thing. The cry of this spirit also was heard in -that hour, ‘It is well that one man die for the people.’ Yet this spirit -in antiquity of devotion to the city and to the state had also been in -itself and in its time a noble spirit. It had its poets and its -martyrs; men still to be honoured for ever. It was failing through its -weakness in not seeing the separate soul of a man, the shrine of all -mysticism; but it was only failing as everything else was failing. The -mob went along with the Sadducees and the Pharisees, the philosophers -and the moralists. It went along with the imperial magistrates and the -sacred priests, the scribes and the soldiers, that the one universal -human spirit might suffer a universal condemnation; that there might be -one deep, unanimous chorus of approval and harmony when Man was rejected -of men. - -There were solitudes beyond where none shall follow. There were secrets -in the inmost and invisible part of that drama that have no symbol in -speech; or in any severance of a man from men. Nor is it easy for any -words less stark and single-minded than those of the naked narrative -even to hint at the horror of exaltation that lifted itself above the -hill. Endless expositions have not come to the end of it, or even to the -beginning. And if there be any sound that can produce a silence, we may -surely be silent about the end and the extremity; when a cry was driven -out of that darkness in words dreadfully distinct and dreadfully -unintelligible, which man shall never understand in all the eternity -they have purchased for him; and for one annihilating instant an abyss -that is not for our thoughts had opened even in the unity of the -absolute; and God had been forsaken of God. - -They took the body down from the cross and one of the few rich men among -the first Christians obtained permission to bury it in a rock tomb in -his garden; the Romans setting a military guard lest there should be -some riot and attempt to recover the body. There was once more a natural -symbolism in these natural proceedings; it was well that the tomb should -be sealed with all the secrecy of ancient eastern sepulture and guarded -by the authority of the Caesars. For in that second cavern the whole of -that great and glorious humanity which we call antiquity was gathered up -and covered over; and in that place it was buried. It was the end of a -very great thing called human history; the history that was merely -human. The mythologies and the philosophies were buried there, the gods -and the heroes and the sages. In the great Roman phrase, they had lived. -But as they could only live, so they could only die; and they were dead. - -On the third day the friends of Christ coming at daybreak to the place -found the grave empty and the stone rolled away. In varying ways they -realised the new wonder; but even they hardly realised that the world -had died in the night. What they were looking at was the first day of a -new creation, with a new heaven and a new earth; and in a semblance of -the gardener God walked again in the garden, in the cool not of the -evening but the dawn. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE WITNESS OF THE HERETICS - - -Christ founded the Church with two great figures of speech; in the final -words to the Apostles who received authority to found it. The first was -the phrase about founding it on Peter as on a rock; the second was the -symbol of the keys. About the meaning of the former there is naturally -no doubt in my own case; but it does not directly affect the argument -here save in two more secondary aspects. It is yet another example of a -thing that could only fully expand and explain itself afterwards, and -even long afterwards. And it is yet another example of something the -very reverse of simple and self-evident even in the language, in so far -as it described a man as a rock when he had much more the appearance of -a reed. - -But the other image of the keys has an exactitude that has hardly been -exactly noticed. The keys have been conspicuous enough in the art and -heraldry of Christendom; but not every one has noted the peculiar -aptness of the allegory. We have now reached the point in history where -something must be said of the first appearance and activities of the -Church in the Roman Empire; and for that brief description nothing could -be more perfect than that ancient metaphor. The Early Christian was very -precisely a person carrying about a key, or what he said was a key. The -whole Christian movement consisted in claiming to possess that key. It -was not merely a vague forward movement, which might be better -represented by a battering-ram. It was not something that swept along -with it similar and dissimilar things, as does a modern social movement. -As we shall see in a moment, it rather definitely refused to do so. It -definitely asserted that there was a key and that it possessed that key -and that no other key was like it; in that sense it was as narrow as you -please. Only it happened to be the key that could unlock the prison of -the whole world; and let in the white daylight of escape. - -The creed was like a key in three respects; which can be most -conveniently summed up under this symbol. First, a key is above all -things a thing with a shape. It is a thing that depends entirely upon -keeping its shape. The Christian creed is above all things the -philosophy of shapes and the enemy of shapelessness. That is where it -differs from all that formless infinity, Manichean or Buddhist, which -makes a sort of pool of night in the dark heart of Asia; the ideal of -uncreating all the creatures. That is where it differs also from the -analogous vagueness of mere evolutionism; the idea of creatures -constantly losing their shape. A man told that his solitary latchkey had -been melted down with a million others into a Buddhistic unity would be -annoyed. But a man told that his key was gradually growing and sprouting -in his pocket, and branching into new wards or complications, would not -be more gratified. - -Second, the shape of a key is in itself a rather fantastic shape. A -savage who did not know it was a key would have the greatest difficulty -in guessing what it could possibly be. And it is fantastic because it is -in a sense arbitrary. A key is not a matter of abstractions; in that -sense a key is not a matter of argument. It either fits the lock or it -does not. It is useless for men to stand disputing over it, considered -by itself; or reconstructing it on pure principles of geometry or -decorative art. It is senseless for a man to say he would like a simpler -key; it would be far more sensible to do his best with a crowbar. And -thirdly, as the key is necessarily a thing with a pattern, so this was -one having in some ways a rather elaborate pattern. When people complain -of the religion being so early complicated with theology and things of -the kind, they forget that the world had not only got into a hole, but -had got into a whole maze of holes and corners. The problem itself was a -complicated problem; it did not in the ordinary sense merely involve -anything so simple as sin. It was also full of secrets, of unexplored -and unfathomable fallacies, of unconscious mental diseases, of dangers -in all directions. If the faith had faced the world only with the -platitudes about peace and simplicity some moralists would confine it -to, it would not have had the faintest effect on that luxurious and -labyrinthine lunatic asylum. What it did do we must now roughly -describe; it is enough to say here that there was undoubtedly much about -the key that seemed complex; indeed there was only one thing about it -that was simple. It opened the door. - -There are certain recognised and accepted statements in this matter -which may for brevity and convenience be described as lies. We have all -heard people say that Christianity arose in an age of barbarism. They -might just as well say that Christian Science arose in an age of -barbarism. They may think Christianity was a symptom of social decay, as -I think Christian Science a symptom of mental decay. They may think -Christianity a superstition that ultimately destroyed a civilisation, as -I think Christian Science a superstition capable (if taken seriously) of -destroying any number of civilisations. But to say that a Christian of -the fourth or fifth centuries was a barbarian living in a barbarous time -is exactly like saying that Mrs. Eddy was a Red Indian. And if I allowed -my constitutional impatience with Mrs. Eddy to impel me to call her a -Red Indian, I should incidentally be telling a lie. We may like or -dislike the imperial civilisation of Rome in the fourth century; we may -like or dislike the industrial civilisation of America in the nineteenth -century; but that they both were what we commonly mean by a civilisation -no person of common sense could deny if he wanted to. This is a very -obvious fact, but it is also a very fundamental one; and we must make it -the foundation of any further description of constructive Christianity -in the past. For good or evil, it was pre-eminently the product of a -civilised age, perhaps of an over-civilised age. This is the first fact -apart from all praise or blame; indeed I am so unfortunate as not to -feel that I praise a thing when I compare it to Christian Science. But -it is at least desirable to know something of the savour of a society in -which we are condemning or praising anything; and the science that -connects Mrs. Eddy with tomahawks or the Mater Dolorosa with totems may -for our general convenience be eliminated. The dominant fact, not merely -about the Christian religion, but about the whole pagan civilisation, -was that which has been more than once repeated in these pages. The -Mediterranean was a lake in the real sense of a pool; in which a number -of different cults or cultures were, as the phrase goes, pooled. Those -cities facing each other round the circle of the lake became more and -more one cosmopolitan culture. On its legal and military side it was the -Roman Empire; but it was very many-sided. It might be called -superstitious in the sense that it contained a great number of varied -superstitions; but by no possibility can any part of it be called -barbarous. - -In this level of cosmopolitan culture arose the Christian religion and -the Catholic Church; and everything in the story suggests that it was -felt to be something new and strange. Those who have tried to suggest -that it evolved out of something much milder or more ordinary have found -that in this case their evolutionary method is very difficult to apply. -They may suggest that Essenes or Ebionites or such things were the -seed; but the seed is invisible; the tree appears very rapidly -full-grown; and the tree is something totally different. It is certainly -a Christmas tree in the sense that it keeps the kindliness and moral -beauty of the story of Bethlehem; but it was as ritualistic as the -seven-branched candlestick, and the candles it carried were considerably -more than were probably permitted by the first prayer-book of Edward the -Sixth. It might well be asked, indeed, why any one accepting the -Bethlehem tradition should object to golden or gilded ornament since the -Magi themselves brought gold; why he should dislike incense in the -church since incense was brought even to the stable. But these are -controversies that do not concern me here. I am concerned only with the -historical fact, more and more admitted by historians, that very early -in its history this thing became visible to the civilisation of -antiquity; and that already the Church appeared as a Church; with -everything that is implied in a Church and much that is disliked in a -Church. We will discuss in a moment how far it was like other -ritualistic or magical or ascetical mysteries in its own time. It was -certainly not in the least like merely ethical and idealistic movements -in our time. It had a doctrine; it had a discipline; it had sacraments; -it had degrees of initiation; it admitted people and expelled people; it -affirmed one dogma with authority and repudiated another with anathemas. -If all these things be the marks of Antichrist, the reign of Antichrist -followed very rapidly upon Christ. - -Those who maintain that Christianity was not a Church but a moral -movement of idealists have been forced to push the period of its -perversion or disappearance further and further back. A bishop of Rome -writes claiming authority in the very lifetime of St. John the -Evangelist; and it is described as the first papal aggression. A friend -of the Apostles writes of them as men he knew, and says they taught him -the doctrine of the Sacrament; and Mr. Wells can only murmur that the -reaction towards barbaric blood-rites may have happened rather earlier -than might be expected. The date of the Fourth Gospel, which at one time -was steadily growing later and later, is now steadily growing earlier -and earlier; until critics are staggered at the dawning and dreadful -possibility that it might be something like what it professes to be. The -last limit of an early date for the extinction of true Christianity has -probably been found by the latest German professor whose authority is -invoked by Dean Inge. This learned scholar says that Pentecost was the -occasion for the first founding of an ecclesiastical, dogmatic and -despotic Church utterly alien to the simple ideals of Jesus of Nazareth. -This may be called, in a popular as well as a learned sense, the limit. -What do professors of this kind imagine that men are made of? Suppose it -were a matter of any merely human movement, let us say that of the -Conscientious Objectors. Some say the early Christians were Pacifists; I -do not believe it for a moment; but I am quite ready to accept the -parallel for the sake of the argument. Tolstoy or some great preacher of -peace among peasants has been shot as a mutineer for defying -conscription; and a month or so after his few followers meet together in -an upper room in remembrance of him. They never had any reason for -coming together except that common memory; they are men of many kinds -with nothing to bind them, except that the greatest event in all their -lives was this tragedy of the teacher of universal peace. They are -always repeating his words, revolving his problems, trying to imitate -his character. The Pacifists meet at their Pentecost and are possessed -of a sudden ecstasy of enthusiasm and wild rush of the whirlwind of -inspiration, in the course of which they proceed to establish universal -Conscription, to increase the Navy Estimates, to insist on everybody -going about armed to the teeth and on all the frontiers bristling with -artillery; the proceedings concluding with the singing of ‘Boys of the -Bulldog Breed’ and ‘Don’t let them scrap the British Navy.’ That is -something like a fair parallel to the theory of these critics; that the -transition from their idea of Jesus to their idea of Catholicism could -have been made in the little upper room at Pentecost. Surely anybody’s -common sense would tell him that enthusiasts, who only met through their -common enthusiasm for a leader whom they loved, would not instantly rush -away to establish everything that he hated. No, if the ‘ecclesiastical -and dogmatic system’ is as old as Pentecost it is as old as Christmas. -If we trace it back to such very early Christians we must trace it back -to Christ. - -We may begin then with these two negations. It is nonsense to say that -the Christian faith appeared in a simple age; in the sense of an -unlettered and gullible age. It is equally nonsense to say that the -Christian faith was a simple thing; in the sense of a vague or childish -or merely instinctive thing. Perhaps the only point in which we could -possibly say that the Church fitted into the pagan world is the fact -that they were both not only highly civilised but rather complicated. -They were both emphatically many-sided; but antiquity was then a -many-sided hole, like a hexagonal hole waiting for an equally hexagonal -stopper. In that sense only the Church was many-sided enough to fit the -world. The six sides of the Mediterranean world faced each other across -the sea and waited for something that should look all ways at once. The -Church had to be both Roman and Greek and Jewish and African and -Asiatic. In the very words of the Apostle of the Gentiles, it was indeed -all things to all men. Christianity then was not merely crude and -simple, and was the very reverse of the growth of a barbaric time. But -when we come to the contrary charge, we come to a much more plausible -charge. It is very much more tenable that the Faith was but the final -phase of the decay of civilisation, in the sense of the excess of -civilisation; that this superstition was a sign that Rome was dying, and -dying of being much too civilised. That is an argument much better worth -considering; and we will proceed to consider it. - -At the beginning of this book I ventured on a general summary of it, in -a parallel between the rise of humanity out of nature and the rise of -Christianity out of history. I pointed out that in both cases what had -gone before might imply something coming after; but did not in the least -imply what did come after. If a detached mind had seen certain apes it -might have deduced more anthropoids; it would not have deduced man or -anything within a thousand miles of what man has done. In short, it -might have seen Pithacanthropus or the Missing Link looming in the -future, if possible almost as dimly and doubtfully as we see him looming -in the past. But if it foresaw him appearing it would also foresee him -disappearing, and leaving a few faint traces just as he has left a few -faint traces; if they are traces. To foresee that Missing Link would not -be to foresee Man, or anything like Man. Now this earlier explanation -must be kept in mind; because it is an exact parallel to the true view -of the Church; and the suggestion of it having evolved naturally out of -the Empire in decay. - -The truth is that in one sense a man might very well have predicted that -the imperial decadence would produce something like Christianity. That -is, something a little like and gigantically different. A man might very -well have said, for instance, ‘Pleasure has been pursued so -extravagantly that there will be a reaction into pessimism. Perhaps it -will take the form of asceticism; men will mutilate themselves instead -of merely hanging themselves.’ Or a man might very reasonably have said, -‘If we weary of our Greek and Latin gods we shall be hankering after -some eastern mystery or other; there will be a fashion in Persians or -Hindoos.’ Or a man of the world might well have been shrewd enough to -say, ‘Powerful people are picking up these fads; some day the court will -adopt one of them and it may become official.’ Or yet another and -gloomier prophet might be pardoned for saying, ‘The world is going -down-hill; dark and barbarous superstitions will return, it does not -matter much which. They will all be formless and fugitive like dreams of -the night.’ - -Now it is the intense interest of the case that all these prophecies -were really fulfilled; but it was not the Church that fulfilled them. It -was the Church that escaped from them, confounded them, and rose above -them in triumph. In so far as it was probable that the mere nature of -hedonism would produce a mere reaction of asceticism, it did produce a -mere reaction of asceticism. It was the movement called Manichean, and -the Church was its mortal enemy. In so far as it would have naturally -appeared at that point of history, it did appear; it did also disappear, -which was equally natural. The mere pessimist reaction did come with the -Manichees and did go with the Manichees. But the Church did not come -with them or go with them; and she had much more to do with their going -than with their coming. Or again, in so far as it was probable that even -the growth of scepticism would bring in a fashion of eastern religion, -it did bring it in; Mithras came from far beyond Palestine out of the -heart of Persia, bringing strange mysteries of the blood of bulls. -Certainly there was everything to show that some such fashion would have -come in any case. But certainly there is nothing in the world to show -that it would not have passed away in any case. Certainly an Oriental -fad was something eminently fitted to the fourth or fifth century; but -that hardly explains it having remained to the twentieth century, and -still going strong. In short, in so far as things of the kind might have -been expected then, things like Mithraism were experienced then; but it -scarcely explains our more recent experiences. And if we were still -Mithraists merely because Mithraic head-dresses and other Persian -apparatuses might be expected to be all the rage in the days of -Domitian, it would almost seem by this time that we must be a little -dowdy. - -It is the same, as will be suggested in a moment, with the idea of -official favouritism. In so far as such favouritism shown towards a fad -was something that might have been looked for during the decline and -fall of the Roman Empire, it was something that did exist in that Empire -and did decline and fall with it. It throws no sort of light on the -thing that resolutely refused to decline and fall; that grew steadily -while the other was declining and falling; and which even at this moment -is going forward with fearless energy, when another aeon has completed -its cycle and another civilisation seems almost ready to fall or to -decline. - -Now the curious fact is this; that the very heresies which the Early -Church is blamed for crushing testify to the unfairness for which she is -blamed. In so far as something deserved the blame, it was precisely the -things that she is blamed for blaming. In so far as something was merely -a superstition, she herself condemned that superstition. In so far as -something was a mere reaction into barbarism, she herself resisted it -because it was a reaction into barbarism. In so far as something was a -fad of the fading empire, that died and deserved to die, it was the -Church alone that killed it. The Church is reproached for being exactly -what the heresy was repressed for being. The explanations of the -evolutionary historians and higher critics do really explain why -Arianism and Gnosticism and Nestorianism were born--and also why they -died. They do not explain why the Church was born or why she has refused -to die. Above all, they do not explain why she should have made war on -the very evils she is supposed to share. - -Let us take a few practical examples of the principle; the principle -that if there was anything that was really a superstition of the dying -empire, it did really die with the dying empire; and certainly was not -the same as the very thing that destroyed it. For this purpose we will -take in order two or three of the most ordinary explanations of -Christian origins among the modern critics of Christianity. Nothing is -more common, for instance, than to find such a modern critic writing -something like this: ‘Christianity was above all a movement of ascetics, -a rush into the desert, a refuge in the cloister, a renunciation of all -life and happiness; and this was a part of a gloomy and inhuman reaction -against nature itself, a hatred of the body, a horror of the material -universe, a sort of universal suicide of the senses and even of the -self. It came from an eastern fanaticism like that of the fakirs and was -ultimately founded on an eastern pessimism, which seems to feel -existence itself as an evil.’ - -Now the most extraordinary thing about this is that it is all quite -true; it is true in every detail except that it happens to be attributed -entirely to the wrong person. It is not true of the Church; but it is -true of the heretics condemned by the Church. It is as if one were to -write a most detailed analysis of the mistakes and misgovernment of the -ministers of George the Third, merely with the small inaccuracy that the -whole story was told about George Washington; or as if somebody made a -list of the crimes of the Bolshevists with no variation except that they -were all attributed to the Czar. The early Church was indeed very -ascetic, in connection with a totally different philosophy; but the -philosophy of a war on life and nature as such really did exist in the -world, if the critics only knew where to look for it. - -What really happened was this. When the Faith first emerged into the -world, the very first thing that happened to it was that it was caught -in a sort of swarm of mystical and metaphysical sects, mostly out of the -East; like one lonely golden bee caught in a swarm of wasps. To the -ordinary onlooker, there did not seem to be much difference, or anything -beyond a general buzz; indeed in a sense there was not much difference, -so far as stinging and being stung were concerned. The difference was -that only one golden dot in all that whirring gold-dust had the power of -going forth to make hives for all humanity; to give the world honey and -wax or (as was so finely said in a context too easily forgotten) ‘the -two noblest things, which are sweetness and light.’ The wasps all died -that winter; and half the difficulty is that hardly any one knows -anything about them and most people do not know that they ever existed; -so that the whole story of that first phase of our religion is lost. Or, -to vary the metaphor, when this movement or some other movement pierced -the dyke between the east and west and brought more mystical ideas into -Europe, it brought with it a whole flood of other mystical ideas besides -its own, most of them ascetical and nearly all of them pessimistic. They -very nearly flooded and overwhelmed the purely Christian element. They -came mostly from that region that was a sort of dim borderland between -the eastern philosophies and the eastern mythologies, and which shared -with the wilder philosophers that curious craze for making fantastic -patterns of the cosmos in the shape of maps and genealogical trees. -Those that are supposed to derive from the mysterious Manes are called -Manichean; kindred cults are more generally known as Gnostic; they are -mostly of a labyrinthine complexity, but the point to insist on is the -pessimism; the fact that nearly all in one form or another regarded the -creation of the world as the work of an evil spirit. Some of them had -that Asiatic atmosphere that surrounds Buddhism; the suggestion that -life is a corruption of the purity of being. Some of them suggested a -purely spiritual order which had been betrayed by the coarse and clumsy -trick of making such toys as the sun and moon and stars. Anyhow all this -dark tide out of the metaphysical sea in the midst of Asia poured -through the dykes simultaneously with the creed of Christ; but it is the -whole point of the story that the two were not the same; that they -flowed like oil and water. That creed remained in the shape of a -miracle; a river still flowing through the sea. And the proof of the -miracle was practical once more; it was merely that while all that sea -was salt and bitter with the savour of death, of this one stream in the -midst of it a man could drink. - -Now that purity was preserved by dogmatic definitions and exclusions. It -could not possibly have been preserved by anything else. If the Church -had not renounced the Manicheans it might have become merely Manichean. -If it had not renounced the Gnostics it might have become Gnostic. But -by the very fact that it did renounce them it proved that it was not -either Gnostic or Manichean. At any rate it proved that something was -not either Gnostic or Manichean; and what could it be that condemned -them, if it was not the original good news of the runners from Bethlehem -and the trumpet of the Resurrection? The early Church was ascetic, but -she proved that she was not pessimistic, simply by condemning the -pessimists. The creed declared that man was sinful, but it did not -declare that life was evil, and it proved it by damning those who did. -The condemnation of the early heretics is itself condemned as something -crabbed and narrow; but it was in truth the very proof that the Church -meant to be brotherly and broad. It proved that the primitive Catholics -were specially eager to explain that they did _not_ think man utterly -vile; that they did _not_ think life incurably miserable; that they did -_not_ think marriage a sin or procreation a tragedy. They were ascetic -because asceticism was the only possible purge of the sins of the world; -but in the very thunder of their anathemas they affirmed for ever that -their asceticism was not to be anti-human or anti-natural; that they did -wish to purge the world and not destroy it. And nothing else except -those anathemas could possibly have made it clear, amid a confusion -which still confuses them with their mortal enemies. Nothing else but -dogma could have resisted the riot of imaginative invention with which -the pessimists were waging their war against nature; with their Aeons -and their Demiurge, their strange Logos and their sinister Sophia. If -the Church had not insisted on theology, it would have melted into a mad -mythology of the mystics, yet further removed from reason or even from -rationalism; and, above all, yet further removed from life and from the -love of life. Remember that it would have been an inverted mythology, -one contradicting everything natural in paganism; a mythology in which -Pluto would be above Jupiter and Hades hang higher than Olympus; in -which Brahma and all that has the breath of life would be subject to -Siva, shining with the eye of death. - -That the early Church was itself full of an ecstatic enthusiasm for -renunciation and virginity makes this distinction much more striking and -not less so. It makes all the more important the place where the dogma -drew the line. A man might crawl about on all fours like a beast because -he was an ascetic. He might stand night and day on the top of a pillar -and be adored for being an ascetic. But he could not say that the world -was a mistake or the marriage state a sin without being a heretic. What -was it that thus deliberately disengaged itself from eastern asceticism -by sharp definition and fierce refusal, if it was not something with an -individuality of its own; and one that was quite different? If the -Catholics are to be confused with the Gnostics, we can only say it was -not their fault if they are. And it is rather hard that the Catholics -should be blamed by the same critics for persecuting the heretics and -also for sympathising with the heresy. - -The Church was not a Manichean movement, if only because it was not a -movement at all. It was not even merely an ascetical movement, because -it was not a movement at all. It would be nearer the truth to call it -the tamer of asceticism than the mere leader or loosener of it. It was a -thing having its own theory of asceticism, its own type of asceticism, -but most conspicuous at the moment as the moderator of other theories -and types. This is the only sense that can be made, for instance, of the -story of St. Augustine. As long as he was a mere man of the world, a -mere man drifting with his time, he actually was a Manichean. It really -was quite modern and fashionable to be a Manichean. But when he became a -Catholic, the people he instantly turned on and rent in pieces were the -Manicheans. The Catholic way of putting it is that he left off being a -pessimist to become an ascetic. But as the pessimists interpreted -asceticism, it might be said that he left off being an ascetic to become -a saint. The war upon life, the denial of nature, were exactly the -things he had already found in the heathen world outside the Church, and -had to renounce when he entered the Church. The very fact that St. -Augustine remains a somewhat sterner or sadder figure than St. Francis -or St. Teresa only accentuates the dilemma. Face to face with the -gravest or even grimmest of Catholics, we can still ask, ‘Why did -Catholicism make war on Manichees, if Catholicism was Manichean?’ - -Take another rationalistic explanation of the rise of Christendom. It is -common enough to find another critic saying, ‘Christianity did not -really rise at all; that is, it did not merely rise from below; it was -imposed from above. It is an example of the power of the executive, -especially in despotic states. The Empire was really an Empire; that is, -it was really ruled by the Emperor. One of the Emperors happened to -become a Christian. He might just as well have become a Mithraist or a -Jew or a Fire-Worshipper; it was common in the decline of the Empire for -eminent and educated people to adopt these eccentric eastern cults. But -when he adopted it, it became the official religion of the Roman Empire; -and when it became the official religion of the Roman Empire, it became -as strong, as universal, and as invincible as the Roman Empire. It has -only remained in the world as a relic of that Empire; or, as many have -put it, it is but the ghost of Caesar still hovering over Rome.’ This -also is a very ordinary line taken in the criticism of orthodoxy, to say -that it was only officialism that ever made it orthodoxy. And here again -we can call on the heretics to refute it. - -The whole great history of the Arian heresy might have been invented to -explode this idea. It is a very interesting history often repeated in -this connection; and the upshot of it is in that in so far as there ever -was a merely official religion, it actually died because it was a merely -official religion; and what destroyed it was the real religion. Arius -advanced a version of Christianity which moved, more or less vaguely, in -the direction of what we should call Unitarianism; though it was not the -same, for it gave to Christ a curious intermediary position between the -divine and human. The point is that it seemed to many more reasonable -and less fanatical; and among these were many of the educated class in a -sort of reaction against the first romance of conversion. Arians were a -sort of moderates and a sort of modernists. And it was felt that after -the first squabbles this was the final form of rationalised religion -into which civilisation might well settle down. It was accepted by Divus -Caesar himself and became the official orthodoxy; the generals and -military princes drawn from the new barbarian powers of the north, full -of the future, supported it strongly. But the sequel is still more -important. Exactly as a modern man might pass through Unitarianism to -complete agnosticism, so the greatest of the Arian emperors ultimately -shed the last and thinnest pretence of Christianity; he abandoned even -Arius and returned to Apollo. He was a Caesar of the Caesars; a soldier, -a scholar, a man of large ambitions and ideals; another of the -philosopher kings. It seemed to him as if at his signal the sun rose -again. The oracles began to speak like birds beginning to sing at dawn; -paganism was itself again; the gods returned. It seemed the end of that -strange interlude of an alien superstition. And indeed it was the end of -it, so far as there was a mere interlude of mere superstition. It was -the end of it, in so far as it was the fad of an emperor or the fashion -of a generation. If there really was something that began with -Constantine, then it ended with Julian. - -But there was something that did not end. There had arisen in that hour -of history, defiant above the democratic tumult of the Councils of the -Church, Athanasius against the world. We may pause upon the point at -issue; because it is relevant to the whole of this religious history, -and the modern world seems to miss the whole point of it. We might put -it this way. If there is one question which the enlightened and liberal -have the habit of deriding and holding up as a dreadful example of -barren dogma and senseless sectarian strife, it is this Athanasian -question of the Co-Eternity of the Divine Son. On the other hand, if -there is one thing that the same liberals always offer us as a piece of -pure and simple Christianity, untroubled by doctrinal disputes, it is -the single sentence, ‘God is Love.’ Yet the two statements are almost -identical; at least one is very nearly nonsense without the other. The -barren dogma is only the logical way of stating the beautiful sentiment. -For if there be a being without beginning, existing before all things, -was He loving when there was nothing to be loved? If through that -unthinkable eternity He is lonely, what is the meaning of saying He is -love? The only justification of such a mystery is the mystical -conception that in His own nature there was something analogous to -self-expression; something of what begets and beholds what it has -begotten. Without some such idea, it is really illogical to complicate -the ultimate essence of deity with an idea like love. If the moderns -really want a simple religion of love, they must look for it in the -Athanasian Creed. The truth is that the trumpet of true Christianity, -the challenge of the charities and simplicities of Bethlehem or -Christmas Day, never rang out more arrestingly and unmistakably than in -the defiance of Athanasius to the cold compromise of the Arians. It was -emphatically he who really was fighting for a God of Love against a God -of colourless and remote cosmic control; the God of the stoics and the -agnostics. It was emphatically he who was fighting for the Holy Child -against the grey deity of the Pharisees and the Sadducees. He was -fighting for that very balance of beautiful interdependence and -intimacy, in the very Trinity of the Divine Nature, that draws our -hearts to the Trinity of the Holy Family. His dogma, if the phrase be -not misunderstood, turns even God into a Holy Family. - -That this purely Christian dogma actually for a second time rebelled -against the Empire, and actually for a second time refounded the Church -in spite of the Empire, is itself a proof that there was something -positive and personal working in the world, other than whatever official -faith the Empire chose to adopt. This power utterly destroyed the -official faith that the Empire did adopt. It went on its own way as it -is going on its own way still. There are any number of other examples in -which is repeated precisely the same process we have reviewed in the -case of the Manichean and the Arian. A few centuries afterwards, for -instance, the Church had to maintain the same Trinity, which is simply -the logical side of love, against another appearance of the isolated and -simplified deity in the religion of Islam. Yet there are some who cannot -see what the Crusaders were fighting for; and some even who talk as if -Christianity had never been anything but a form of what they call -Hebraism coming in with the decay of Hellenism. Those people must -certainly be very much puzzled by the war between the Crescent and the -Cross. If Christianity had never been anything but a simpler morality -sweeping away polytheism, there is no reason why Christendom should not -have been swept into Islam. The truth is that Islam itself was a -barbaric reaction against that very humane complexity that is really a -Christian character; that idea of balance in the deity, as of balance in -the family, that makes that creed a sort of sanity, and that sanity the -soul of civilisation. And that is why the Church is from the first a -thing holding its own position and point of view, quite apart from the -accidents and anarchies of its age. That is why it deals blows -impartially right and left, at the pessimism of the Manichean or the -optimism of the Pelagian. It was not a Manichean movement because it was -not a movement at all. It was not an official fashion because it was not -a fashion at all. It was something that could coincide with movements -and fashions, could control them and could survive them. - -So might rise from their graves the great heresiarchs to confound their -comrades of to-day. There is nothing that the critics now affirm that we -cannot call on these great witnesses to deny. The modern critic will say -lightly enough that Christianity was but a reaction into asceticism and -anti-natural spirituality, a dance of fakirs furious against life and -love. But Manes the great mystic will answer them from his secret throne -and cry, ‘These Christians have no right to be called spiritual; these -Christians have no title to be called ascetics; they who compromised -with the curse of life and all the filth of the family. Through them the -earth is still foul with fruit and harvest and polluted with population. -Theirs was no movement against nature, or my children would have carried -it to triumph; but these fools renewed the world when I would have ended -it with a gesture.’ And another critic will write that the Church was -but the shadow of the Empire, the fad of a chance Emperor, and that it -remains in Europe only as the ghost of the power of Rome. And Arius the -deacon will answer out of the darkness of oblivion: ‘No, indeed, or the -world would have followed my more reasonable religion. For mine went -down before demagogues and men defying Caesar; and around my champion -was the purple cloak and mine was the glory of the eagles. It was not -for lack of these things that I failed.’ And yet a third modern will -maintain that the creed spread only as a sort of panic of hell-fire; men -everywhere attempting impossible things in fleeing from incredible -vengeance; a nightmare of imaginary remorse; and such an explanation -will satisfy many who see something dreadful in the doctrine of -orthodoxy. And then there will go up against it the terrible voice of -Tertullian, saying, ‘And why then was I cast out; and why did soft -hearts and heads decide against me when I proclaimed the perdition of -all sinners; and what was this power that thwarted me when I threatened -all backsliders with hell? For none ever went up that hard road so far -as I; and mine was the _Credo Quia Impossibile_.’ Then there is the -fourth suggestion that there was something of the Semitic secret society -in the whole matter; that it was a new invasion of the nomad spirit -shaking a kindlier and more comfortable paganism, its cities and its -household gods; whereby the jealous monotheistic races could after all -establish their jealous God. And Mahomet shall answer out of the -whirlwind, the red whirlwind of the desert, ‘Who ever served the -jealousy of God as I did or left him more lonely in the sky? Who ever -paid more honour to Moses and Abraham or won more victories over idols -and the images of paganism? And what was this thing that thrust me back -with the energy of a thing alive; whose fanaticism could drive me from -Sicily and tear up my deep roots out of the rock of Spain? What faith -was theirs who thronged in thousands of every class and country crying -out that my ruin was the will of God; and what hurled great Godfrey as -from a catapult over the wall of Jerusalem; and what brought great -Sobieski like a thunderbolt to the gates of Vienna? I think there was -more than you fancy in the religion that has so matched itself with -mine.’ - -Those who would suggest that the faith was a fanaticism are doomed to an -eternal perplexity. In their account it is bound to appear as fanatical -for nothing, and fanatical against everything. It is ascetical and at -war with ascetics, Roman and in revolt against Rome, monotheistic and -fighting furiously against monotheism; harsh in its condemnation of -harshness; a riddle not to be explained even as unreason. And what sort -of unreason is it that seems reasonable to millions of educated -Europeans through all the revolutions of some sixteen hundred years? -People are not amused with a puzzle or a paradox or a mere muddle in the -mind for all that time. I know of no explanation except that such a -thing is not unreason but reason; that if it is fanatical it is -fanatical for reason and fanatical against all the unreasonable things. -That is the only explanation I can find of a thing from the first so -detached and so confident, condemning things that looked so like itself, -refusing help from powers that seemed so essential to its existence, -sharing on its human side all the passions of the age, yet always at the -supreme moment suddenly rising superior to them, never saying exactly -what it was expected to say and never needing to unsay what it had said; -I can find no explanation except that, like Pallas from the brain of -Jove, it had indeed come forth out of the mind of God, mature and mighty -and armed for judgment and for war. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -THE ESCAPE FROM PAGANISM - - -The modern missionary, with his palm-leaf hat and his umbrella, has -become rather a figure of fun. He is chaffed among men of the world for -the ease with which he can be eaten by cannibals and the narrow bigotry -which makes him regard the cannibal culture as lower than his own. -Perhaps the best part of the joke is that the men of the world do not -see that the joke is against themselves. It is rather ridiculous to ask -a man just about to be boiled in a pot and eaten, at a purely religious -feast, why he does not regard all religions as equally friendly and -fraternal. But there is a more subtle criticism uttered against the more -old-fashioned missionary; to the effect that he generalises too broadly -about the heathen and pays too little attention to the difference -between Mahomet and Mumbo-Jumbo. There was probably truth in this -complaint, especially in the past; but it is my main contention here -that the exaggeration is all the other way at present. It is the -temptation of the professors to treat mythologies too much as -theologies; as things thoroughly thought out and seriously held. It is -the temptation of the intellectuals to take much too seriously the fine -shades of various schools in the rather irresponsible metaphysics of -Asia. Above all, it is their temptation to miss the real truth implied -in the idea of Aquinas contra Gentiles or Athanasius contra mundum. - -If the missionary says, in fact, that he is exceptional in being a -Christian, and that the rest of the races and religions can be -collectively classified as heathen, he is perfectly right. He may say -it in quite the wrong spirit, in which case he is spiritually wrong. But -in the cold light of philosophy and history, he is intellectually right. -He may not be right-minded, but he is right. He may not even have a -right to be right, but he is right. The outer world to which he brings -his creed really is something subject to certain generalisations -covering all its varieties, and is not merely a variety of similar -creeds. Perhaps it is in any case too much of a temptation to pride or -hypocrisy to call it heathenry. Perhaps it would be better simply to -call it humanity. But there are certain broad characteristics of what we -call humanity while it remains in what we call heathenry. They are not -necessarily bad characteristics; some of them are worthy of the respect -of Christendom; some of them have been absorbed and transfigured in the -substance of Christendom. But they existed before Christendom and they -still exist outside Christendom, as certainly as the sea existed before -a boat and all round a boat; and they have as strong and as universal -and as unmistakable a savour as the sea. - -For instance, all real scholars who have studied the Greek and Roman -culture say one thing about it. They agree that in the ancient world -religion was one thing and philosophy quite another. There was very -little effort to rationalise and at the same time to realise a real -belief in the gods. There was very little pretence of any such real -belief among the philosophers. But neither had the passion or perhaps -the power to persecute the other, save in particular and peculiar cases; -and neither the philosopher in his school nor the priest in his temple -seems ever to have seriously contemplated his own concept as covering -the world. A priest sacrificing to Artemis in Calydon did not seem to -think that people would some day sacrifice to her instead of to Isis -beyond the sea; a sage following the vegetarian rule of the -Neo-Pythagoreans did not seem to think it would universally prevail and -exclude the methods of Epictetus or Epicurus. We may call this -liberality if we like; I am not dealing with an argument but describing -an atmosphere. All this, I say, is admitted by all scholars; but what -neither the learned nor the unlearned have fully realised, perhaps, is -that this description is really an exact description of all -non-Christian civilisation to-day; and especially of the great -civilisations of the East. Eastern paganism really is much more all of a -piece, just as ancient paganism was much more all of a piece, than the -modern critics admit. It is a many-coloured Persian carpet as the others -was a varied and tessellated Roman pavement; but the one real crack -right across that pavement came from the earthquake of the Crucifixion. - -The modern European seeking his religion in Asia is reading his religion -into Asia. Religion there is something different; it is both more and -less. He is like a man mapping out the sea as land; marking waves as -mountains; not understanding the nature of its peculiar permanence. It -is perfectly true that Asia has its own dignity and poetry and high -civilisation. But it is not in the least true that Asia has its own -definite dominions of moral government, where all loyalty is conceived -in terms of morality; as when we say that Ireland is Catholic or that -New England was Puritan. The map is not marked out in religions, in our -sense of churches. The state of mind is far more subtle, more relative, -more secretive, more varied and changing, like the colours of the snake. -The Moslem is the nearest approach to a militant Christian; and that is -precisely because he is a much nearer approach to an envoy from western -civilisation. The Moslem in the heart of Asia almost stands for the soul -of Europe. And as he stands between them and Europe in the matter of -space, so he stands between them and Christianity in the matter of time. -In that sense the Moslems in Asia are merely like the Nestorians in -Asia. Islam, historically speaking, is the greatest of the eastern -heresies. It owed something to the quite isolated and unique -individuality of Israel; but it owed more to Byzantium and the -theological enthusiasm of Christendom. It owed something even to the -Crusades. It owed nothing whatever to Asia. It owed nothing to the -atmosphere of the ancient and traditional world of Asia, with its -immemorial etiquette and its bottomless or bewildering philosophies. All -that ancient and actual Asia felt the entrance of Islam as something -foreign and western and warlike, piercing it like a spear. - -Even where we might trace in dotted lines the domains of Asiatic -religions, we should probably be reading into them something dogmatic -and ethical belonging to our own religion. It is as if a European -ignorant of the American atmosphere were to suppose that each ‘state’ -was a separate sovereign state as patriotic as France or Poland; or that -when a Yankee referred fondly to his ‘home town’ he meant he had no -other nation, like a citizen of ancient Athens or Rome. As he would be -reading a particular sort of loyalty into America, so we are reading a -particular sort of loyalty into Asia. There are loyalties of other -kinds; but not what men on the West mean by being a believer, by trying -to be a Christian, by being a good Protestant or a practising Catholic. -In the intellectual world it means something far more vague and varied -by doubts and speculations. In the moral world it means something far -more loose and drifting. A professor of Persian at one of our great -universities, so passionate a partisan of the East as practically to -profess a contempt for the West, said to a friend of mine: ‘You will -never understand oriental religions, because you always conceive -religion as connected with ethics. This kind has really nothing to do -with ethics.’ We have most of us known some Masters of the Higher -Wisdom, some Pilgrims upon the Path to Power, some eastern esoteric -saints and seers, who had really nothing to do with ethics. Something -different, something detached and irresponsible, tinges the moral -atmosphere of Asia and touches even that of Islam. It was very -realistically caught in the atmosphere of _Hassan_; and a very horrible -atmosphere too. It is even more vivid in such glimpses as we get of the -genuine and ancient cults of Asia. Deeper than the depths of -metaphysics, far down in the abysses of mystical meditations, under all -that solemn universe of spiritual things, is a secret, an intangible and -a terrible levity. It does not really very much matter what one does. -Either because they do not believe in a devil, or because they do -believe in a destiny, or because experience here is everything and -eternal life something totally different, but for some reason they are -totally different. I have read somewhere that there were three great -friends famous in medieval Persia for their unity of mind. One became -the responsible and respected Vizier of the Great King; the second was -the poet Omar, pessimist and epicurean, drinking wine in mockery of -Mahomet; the third was the Old Man of the Mountain who maddened his -people with hashish that they might murder other people with daggers. It -does not really much matter what one does. - -The Sultan in _Hassan_ would have understood all those three men; indeed -he was all those three men. But this sort of universalist cannot have -what we call a character; it is what we call a chaos. He cannot choose; -he cannot fight; he cannot repent; he cannot hope. He is not in the same -sense creating something; for creation means rejection. He is not, in -our religious phrase, making his soul. For our doctrine of salvation -does really mean a labour like that of a man trying to make a statue -beautiful; a victory with wings. For that there must be a final choice; -for a man cannot make statues without rejecting stone. And there really -is this ultimate unmorality behind the metaphysics of Asia. And the -reason is that there has been nothing through all those unthinkable ages -to bring the human mind sharply to the point; to tell it that the time -has come to choose. The mind has lived too much in eternity. The soul -has been too immortal; in the special sense that it ignores the idea of -mortal sin. It has had too much of eternity, in the sense that it has -not had enough of the hour of death and the day of judgment. It is not -crucial enough; in the literal sense that it has not had enough of the -cross. That is what we mean when we say that Asia is very old. But -strictly speaking Europe is quite as old as Asia; indeed in a sense any -place is as old as any other place. What we mean is that Europe has not -merely gone on growing older. It has been born again. - -Asia is all humanity; as it has worked out its human doom. Asia, in its -vast territory, in its varied populations, in its heights of past -achievement and its depths of dark speculation, is itself a world; and -represents something of what we mean when we speak of the world. It is a -cosmos rather than a continent. It is the world as man has made it; and -contains many of the most wonderful things that man has made. Therefore -Asia stands as the one representative of paganism and the one rival to -Christendom. But everywhere else where we get glimpses of that mortal -destiny, they suggest stages in the same story. Where Asia trails away -into the southern archipelagoes of the savages, or where a darkness full -of nameless shapes dwells in the heart of Africa, or where the last -survivors of lost races linger in the cold volcano of prehistoric -America, it is all the same story; sometimes perhaps later chapters of -the same story. It is men entangled in the forest of their own -mythology; it is men drowned in the sea of their own metaphysics. -Polytheists have grown weary of the wildest of fictions. Monotheists -have grown weary of the most wonderful of truths. Diabolists here and -there have such a hatred of heaven and earth that they have tried to -take refuge in hell. It is the Fall of Man; and it is exactly that fall -that was being felt by our own fathers at the first moment of the Roman -decline. We also were going down that wide road; down that easy slope; -following the magnificent procession of the high civilisations of the -world. - -If the Church had not entered the world then, it seems probable that -Europe would be now very much what Asia is now. Something may be allowed -for a real difference of race and environment, visible in the ancient as -in the modern world. But after all we talk about the changeless East -very largely because it has not suffered the great change. Paganism in -its last phase showed considerable signs of becoming equally changeless. -This would not mean that new schools or sects of philosophy would not -arise; as new schools did arise in Antiquity and do arise in Asia. It -does not mean that there would be no real mystics or visionaries; as -there were mystics in Antiquity and are mystics in Asia. It does not -mean that there would be no social codes, as there were codes in -Antiquity and are codes in Asia. It does not mean that there could not -be good men or happy lives, for God has given all men a conscience and -conscience can give all men a kind of peace. But it does mean that the -tone and proportion of all these things, and especially the proportion -of good and evil things, would be in the unchanged West what they are in -the changeless East. And nobody who looks at that changeless East -honestly, and with a real sympathy, can believe that there is anything -there remotely resembling the challenge and revolution of the Faith. - -In short, if classic paganism had lingered until now, a number of things -might well have lingered with it; and they would look very like what we -call the religions of the East. There would still be Pythagoreans -teaching reincarnation, as there are still Hindus teaching -reincarnation. There would still be Stoics making a religion out of -reason and virtue, as there are still Confucians making a religion out -of reason and virtue. There would still be Neo-Platonists studying -transcendental truths, the meaning of which was mysterious to other -people and disputed even amongst themselves; as the Buddhists still -study a transcendentalism mysterious to others and disputed among -themselves. There would still be intelligent Apollonians apparently -worshipping the sun-god but explaining that they were worshipping the -divine principle; just as there are still intelligent Parsees apparently -worshipping the sun but explaining that they are worshipping the deity. -There would still be wild Dionysians dancing on the mountain as there -are still wild Dervishes dancing in the desert. There would still be -crowds of people attending the popular feasts of the gods, in pagan -Europe as in pagan Asia. There would still be crowds of gods, local and -other, for them to worship. And there would still be a great many more -people who worshipped them than people who believed in them. Finally -there would still be a very large number of people who did worship gods -and did believe in gods; and who believed in gods and worshipped gods -simply because they were demons. There would still be Levantines -secretly sacrificing to Moloch as there are still Thugs secretly -sacrificing to Kalee. There would still be a great deal of magic; and a -great deal of it would be black magic. There would still be a -considerable admiration of Seneca and a considerable imitation of Nero; -just as the exalted epigrams of Confucius could coexist with the -tortures of China. And over all that tangled forest of traditions -growing wild or withering would brood the broad silence of a singular -and even nameless mood; but the nearest name of it is nothing. All these -things, good and bad, would have an indescribable air of being too old -to die. - -None of these things occupying Europe in the absence of Christendom -would bear the least likeness to Christendom. Since the Pythagorean -Metempsychosis would still be there, we might call it the Pythagorean -religion as we talk about the Buddhist religion. As the noble maxims of -Socrates would still be there, we might call it the Socratic religion as -we talk about the Confucian religion. As the popular holiday was still -marked by a mythological hymn to Adonis, we might call it the religion -of Adonis as we talk about the religion of Juggernaut. As literature -would still be based on the Greek mythology, we might call that -mythology a religion, as we call the Hindu mythology a religion. We -might say that there were so many thousands or millions of people -belonging to that religion, in the sense of frequenting such temples or -merely living in a land full of such temples. But if we called the last -tradition of Pythagoras or the lingering legend of Adonis by the name of -a religion, then we must find some other name for the Church of Christ. - -If anybody says that philosophic maxims preserved through many ages, or -mythological temples frequented by many people, are things of the same -class and category as the Church, it is enough to answer quite simply -that they are not. Nobody thinks they are the same when he sees them in -the old civilisation of Greece and Rome; nobody would think they were -the same if that civilisation had lasted two thousand years longer and -existed at the present day; nobody can in reason think they are the same -in the parallel pagan civilisation in the East, as it is at the present -day. None of these philosophies or mythologies are anything like a -Church; certainly nothing like a Church Militant. And, as I have shown -elsewhere, even if this rule were not already proved, the exception -would prove the rule. The rule is that pre-Christian or pagan history -does not produce a Church Militant; and the exception, or what some -would call the exception, is that Islam is at least militant if it is -not Church. And that is precisely because Islam is the one religious -rival that is _not_ pre-Christian and therefore not in that sense pagan. -Islam was a product of Christianity; even if it was a by-product; even -if it was a bad product. It was a heresy or parody emulating and -therefore imitating the Church. It is no more surprising that -Mahomedanism had something of her fighting spirit than that Quakerism -had something of her peaceful spirit. After Christianity there are any -number of such emulations or extensions. Before it there are none. - -The Church Militant is thus unique because it is an army marching to -effect a universal deliverance. The bondage from which the world is thus -to be delivered is something that is very well symbolised by the state -of Asia as by the state of pagan Europe. I do not mean merely their -moral or immoral state. The missionary, as a matter of fact, has much -more to say for himself than the enlightened imagine, even when he says -that the heathen are idolatrous and immoral. A touch or two of realistic -experience about Eastern religion, even about Moslem religion, will -reveal some startling insensibilities in ethics; such as the practical -indifference to the line between passion and perversion. It is not -prejudice but practical experience which says that Asia is full of -demons as well as gods. But the evil I mean is in the mind. And it is in -the mind wherever the mind has worked for a long time alone. It is what -happens when all dreaming and thinking have come to an end in an -emptiness that is at once negation and necessity. It sounds like an -anarchy, but it is also a slavery. It is what has been called already -the wheel of Asia; all those recurrent arguments about cause and effect -or things beginning and ending in the mind, which make it impossible for -the soul really to strike out and go anywhere or do anything. And the -point is that it is not necessarily peculiar to Asiatics; it would have -been true in the end of Europeans--if something had not happened. If the -Church Militant had not been a thing marching, all men would have been -marking time. If the Church Militant had not endured a discipline, all -men would have endured a slavery. - -What that universal yet fighting faith brought into the world was hope. -Perhaps the one thing common to mythology and philosophy was that both -were really sad; in the sense that they had not this hope even if they -had touches of faith or charity. We may call Buddhism a faith; though to -us it seems more like a doubt. We may call the Lord of Compassion a Lord -of Charity; though it seems to us a very pessimist sort of pity. But -those who insist most on the antiquity and size of such cults must agree -that in all their ages they have not covered all their areas with that -sort of practical and pugnacious hope. In Christendom hope has never -been absent; rather it has been errant, extravagant, excessively fixed -upon fugitive chances. Its perpetual revolution and reconstruction has -at least been an evidence of people being in better spirits. Europe did -very truly renew its youth like the eagles; just as the eagles of Rome -rose again over the legions of Napoleon, or we have seen soaring but -yesterday the silver eagle of Poland. But in the Polish case even -revolution always went with religion. Napoleon himself sought a -reconciliation with religion. Religion could never be finally separated -even from the most hostile of the hopes; simply because it was the real -source of the hopefulness. And the cause of this is to be found simply -in the religion itself. Those who quarrel about it seldom even consider -it in itself. There is neither space nor place for such a full -consideration here; but a word may be said to explain a reconciliation -that always recurs and still seems to require explanation. - -There will be no end to the weary debates about liberalising theology, -until people face the fact that the only liberal part of it is really -the dogmatic part. If dogma is incredible, it is because it is -incredibly liberal. If it is irrational, it can only be in giving us -more assurance of freedom than is justified by reason. The obvious -example is that essential form of freedom which we call free-will. It is -absurd to say that a man shows his liberality in denying his liberty. -But it is tenable that he has to affirm a transcendental doctrine in -order to affirm his liberty. There is a sense in which we might -reasonably say that if man has a primary power of choice, he has in that -fact a supernatural power of creation, as if he could raise the dead or -give birth to the unbegotten. Possibly in that case a man must be a -miracle; and certainly in that case he must be a miracle in order to be -a man; and most certainly in order to be a free man. But it is absurd to -forbid him to be a free man and do it in the name of a more free -religion. - -But it is true in twenty other matters. Anybody who believes at all in -God must believe in the absolute supremacy of God. But in so far as that -supremacy does allow of any degrees that can be called liberal or -illiberal, it is self-evident that the illiberal power is the deity of -the rationalists and the liberal power is the deity of the dogmatists. -Exactly in proportion as you turn monotheism into monism you turn it -into despotism. It is precisely the unknown God of the scientist, with -his impenetrable purpose and his inevitable and unalterable law, that -reminds us of a Prussian autocrat making rigid plans in a remote tent -and moving mankind like machinery. It is precisely the God of miracles -and of answered prayers who reminds us of a liberal and popular prince, -receiving petitions, listening to parliaments and considering the cases -of a whole people. I am not now arguing the rationality of this -conception in other respects; as a matter of fact it is not, as some -suppose, irrational; for there is nothing irrational in the wisest and -most well-informed king acting differently according to the action of -those he wishes to save. But I am here only noting the general nature of -liberality, or of free or enlarged atmosphere of action. And in this -respect it is certain that the king can only be what we call magnanimous -if he is what some call capricious. It is the Catholic, who has the -feeling that his prayers do make a difference when offered for the -living and the dead, who also has the feeling of living like a free -citizen in something almost like a constitutional commonwealth. It is -the monist who lives under a single iron law who must have the feeling -of living like a slave under a sultan. Indeed I believe that the -original use of the word _suffragium_, which we now use in politics for -a vote, was that employed in theology about a prayer. The dead in -Purgatory were said to have the suffrages of the living. And in this -sense, of a sort of right of petition to the supreme ruler, we may truly -say that the whole of the Communion of Saints, as well as the whole of -the Church Militant, is founded on universal suffrage. - -But above all, it is true of the most tremendous issue; of that tragedy -which has created the divine comedy of our creed. Nothing short of the -extreme and strong and startling doctrine of the divinity of Christ will -give that particular effect that can truly stir the popular sense like a -trumpet; the idea of the king himself serving in the ranks like a common -soldier. By making that figure merely human we make that story much less -human. We take away the point of the story which actually pierces -humanity; the point of the story which was quite literally the point of -a spear. It does not especially humanise the universe to say that good -and wise men can die for their opinions; any more than it would be any -sort of uproariously popular news in an army that good soldiers may -easily get killed. It is no news that King Leonidas is dead any more -than that Queen Anne is dead; and men did not wait for Christianity to -be men, in the full sense of being heroes. But if we are describing, for -the moment, the atmosphere of what is generous and popular and even -picturesque, any knowledge of human nature will tell us that no -sufferings of the sons of men, or even of the servants of God, strike -the same note as the notion of the master suffering instead of his -servants. And this is given by the theological and emphatically not by -the scientific deity. No mysterious monarch, hidden in his starry -pavilion at the base of the cosmic campaign, is in the least like that -celestial chivalry of the Captain who carries his five wounds in the -front of battle. - -What the denouncer of dogma really means is not that dogma is bad; but -rather that dogma is too good to be true. That is, he means that dogma -is too liberal to be likely. Dogma gives man too much freedom when it -permits him to fall. Dogma gives even God too much freedom when it -permits him to die. That is what the intelligent sceptics ought to say; -and it is not in the least my intention to deny that there is something -to be said for it. They mean that the universe is itself a universal -prison; that existence itself is a limitation and a control; and it is -not for nothing that they call causation a chain. In a word, they mean -quite simply that they cannot believe these things; not in the least -that they are unworthy of belief. We say, not lightly but very -literally, that the truth has made us free. They say that it makes us so -free that it cannot be the truth. To them it is like believing in -fairyland to believe in such freedom as we enjoy. It is like believing -in men with wings to entertain the fancy of men with wills. It is like -accepting a fable about a squirrel in conversation with a mountain to -believe in a man who is free to ask or a God who is free to answer. This -is a manly and a rational negation, for which I for one shall always -show respect. But I decline to show any respect for those who first of -all clip the bird and cage the squirrel, rivet the chains and refuse the -freedom, close all the doors of the cosmic prison on us with a clang of -eternal iron, tell us that our emancipation is a dream and our dungeon a -necessity; and then calmly turn round and tell us they have a freer -thought and a more liberal theology. - -The moral of all this is an old one; that religion is revelation. In -other words, it is a vision, and a vision received by faith; but it is a -vision of reality. The faith consists in a conviction of its reality. -That, for example, is the difference between a vision and a day-dream. -And that is the difference between religion and mythology. That is the -difference between faith and all that fancy-work, quite human and more -or less healthy, which we considered under the head of mythology. There -is something in the reasonable use of the very word vision that implies -two things about it; first that it comes very rarely, possibly that it -comes only once; and secondly that it probably comes once and for all. A -day-dream may come every day. A day-dream may be different every day. It -is something more than the difference between telling ghost-stories and -meeting a ghost. - -But if it is not a mythology neither is it a philosophy. It is not a -philosophy because, being a vision, it is not a pattern but a picture. -It is not one of those simplifications which resolve everything into an -abstract explanation; as that everything is recurrent; or everything is -relative; or everything is inevitable; or everything is illusive. It is -not a process but a story. It has proportions, of the sort seen in a -picture or a story; it has not the regular repetitions of a pattern or a -process; but it replaces them by being convincing as a picture or a -story is convincing. In other words, it is exactly, as the phrase goes, -like life. For indeed it is life. An example of what is meant here might -well be found in the treatment of the problem of evil. It is easy -enough to make a plan of life of which the background is black, as the -pessimists do; and then admit a speck or two of star-dust more or less -accidental, or at least in the literal sense insignificant. And it is -easy enough to make another plan on white paper, as the Christian -Scientists do, and explain or explain away somehow such dots or smudges -as may be difficult to deny. Lastly it is easiest of all, perhaps, to -say as the dualists do, that life is like a chess-board in which the two -are equal; and can as truly be said to consist of white squares on a -black board or of black squares on a white board. But every man feels in -his heart that none of these three paper plans is like life; that none -of these worlds is one in which he can live. Something tells him that -the ultimate idea of a world is not bad or even neutral; staring at the -sky or the grass or the truths of mathematics or even a new-laid egg, he -has a vague feeling like the shadow of that saying of the great -Christian philosopher, St. Thomas Aquinas, ‘Every existence, as such, is -good.’ On the other hand, something else tells him that it is unmanly -and debased and even diseased to minimise evil to a dot or even a blot. -He realises that optimism is morbid. It is if possible even more morbid -than pessimism. These vague but healthy feelings, if he followed them -out, would result in the idea that evil is in some way an exception but -an enormous exception; and ultimately that evil is an invasion or yet -more truly a rebellion. He does not think that everything is right or -that everything is wrong, or that everything is equally right and wrong. -But he does think that right has a right to be right and therefore a -right to be there; and wrong has no right to be wrong and therefore no -right to be there. It is the prince of the world; but it is also a -usurper. So he will apprehend vaguely what the vision will give to him -vividly; no less than all that strange story of treason in heaven and -the great desertion by which evil damaged and tried to destroy a cosmos -that it could not create. It is a very strange story and its proportions -and its lines and colours are as arbitrary and absolute as the artistic -composition of a picture. It is a vision which we do in fact symbolise -in pictures by titanic limbs and passionate tints of plumage; all that -abysmal vision of falling stars and the peacock panoplies of the night. -But that strange story has one small advantage over the diagrams. It is -like life. - -Another example might be found, not in the problem of evil, but in what -is called the problem of progress. One of the ablest agnostics of the -age once asked me whether I thought mankind grew better or grew worse or -remained the same. He was confident that the alternative covered all -possibilities. He did not see that it only covered patterns and not -pictures; processes and not stories. I asked him whether he thought that -Mr. Smith of Golder’s Green got better or worse or remained exactly the -same between the age of thirty and forty. It then seemed to dawn on him -that it would rather depend on Mr. Smith; and how he chose to go on. It -had never occurred to him that it might depend on how mankind chose to -go on; and that its course was not a straight line or an upward or -downward curve, but a track like that of a man across a valley, going -where he liked and stopping where he chose, going into a church or -falling drunk in a ditch. The life of man is a story; an adventure -story; and in our vision the same is true even of the story of God. - -The Catholic faith is the reconciliation because it is the realisation -both of mythology and philosophy. It is a story and in that sense one of -a hundred stories; only it is a true story. It is a philosophy and in -that sense one of a hundred philosophies; only it is a philosophy that -is like life. But above all, it is a reconciliation because it is -something that can only be called the philosophy of stories. That normal -narrative instinct which produced all the fairy-tales is something that -is neglected by all the philosophies--except one. The Faith is the -justification of that popular instinct; the finding of a philosophy for -it or the analysis of the philosophy in it. Exactly as a man in an -adventure story has to pass various tests to save his life, so the man -in this philosophy has to pass several tests and save his soul. In both -there is an idea of free will operating under conditions of design; in -other words, there is an aim and it is the business of a man to aim at -it; we therefore watch to see whether he will hit it. Now this deep and -democratic and dramatic instinct is derided and dismissed in all the -other philosophies. For all the other philosophies avowedly end where -they begin; and it is the definition of a story that it ends -differently; that it begins in one place and ends in another. From -Buddha and his wheel to Akhen-Aten and his disc, from Pythagoras with -his abstraction of number to Confucius with his religion of routine, -there is not one of them that does not in some way sin against the soul -of a story. There is none of them that really grasps this human notion -of the tale, the test, the adventure; the ordeal of the free man. Each -of them starves the story-telling instinct, so to speak, and does -something to spoil human life considered as a romance; either by -fatalism (pessimist or optimist) and that destiny that is the death of -adventure; or by indifference and that detachment that is the death of -drama; or by a fundamental scepticism that dissolves the actors into -atoms; or by a materialistic limitation blocking the vista of moral -consequences; or a mechanical recurrence making even moral tests -monotonous; or a bottomless relativity making even practical tests -insecure. There is such a thing as a human story; and there is such a -thing as the divine story which is also a human story. But there is no -such thing as a Hegelian story or a Monist story or a relativist story -or a determinist story. For every story, yes, even a penny dreadful or a -cheap novelette, has something in it that belongs to our universe and -not theirs. Every short story does truly begin with creation and end -with a last judgment. - -And _that_ is the reason why the myths and the philosophers were at war -until Christ came. That is why the Athenian democracy killed Socrates -out of respect for the gods; and why every strolling sophist gave -himself the airs of a Socrates whenever he could talk in a superior -fashion of the gods; and why the heretic Pharaoh wrecked his huge idols -and temples for an abstraction and why the priests could return in -triumph and trample his dynasty under foot; and why Buddhism had to -divide itself from Brahminism, and why in every age and country outside -Christendom there has been a feud for ever between the philosopher and -the priest. It is easy enough to say that the philosopher is generally -the more rational; it is easier still to forget that the priest is -always the more popular. For the priest told the people stories; and the -philosopher did not understand the philosophy of stories. It came into -the world with the story of Christ. - -And this is why it had to be a revelation or vision given from above. -Any one who will think of the theory of stories or pictures will easily -see the point. The true story of the world must be told by somebody to -somebody else. By the very nature of a story it cannot be left to occur -to anybody. A story has proportions, variations, surprises, particular -dispositions, which cannot be worked out by rule in the abstract, like a -sum. We could not deduce whether or no Achilles would give back the body -of Hector from a Pythagorean theory of number or recurrence; and we -could not infer for ourselves in what way the world would get back the -body of Christ, merely from being told that all things go round and -round upon the wheel of Buddha. A man might perhaps work out a -proposition of Euclid without having heard of Euclid; but he would not -work out the precise legend of Eurydice without having heard of -Eurydice. At any rate he would not be certain how the story would end -and whether Orpheus was ultimately defeated. Still less could he guess -the end of our story; or the legend of our Orpheus rising, not defeated, -from the dead. - -To sum up; the sanity of the world was restored and the soul of man -offered salvation by something which did indeed satisfy the two warring -tendencies of the past; which had never been satisfied in full and most -certainly never satisfied together. It met the mythological search for -romance by being a story and the philosophical search for truth by being -a true story. That is why the ideal figure had to be a historical -character, as nobody had ever felt Adonis or Pan to be a historical -character. But that is also why the historical character had to be the -ideal figure; and even fulfil many of the functions given to these other -ideal figures; why he was at once the sacrifice and the feast, why he -could be shown under the emblems of the growing vine or the rising sun. -The more deeply we think of the matter the more we shall conclude that, -if there be indeed a God, his creation could hardly have reached any -other culmination than this granting of a real romance to the world. -Otherwise the two sides of the human mind could never have touched at -all; and the brain of man would have remained cloven and double; one -lobe of it dreaming impossible dreams and the other repeating invariable -calculations. The picture-makers would have remained for ever painting -the portrait of nobody. The sages would have remained for ever adding up -numerals that came to nothing. It was that abyss that nothing but an -incarnation could cover; a divine embodiment of our dreams; and he -stands above that chasm whose name is more than priest and older even -than Christendom; Pontifex Maximus, the mightiest maker of a bridge. - -But even with that we return to the more specially Christian symbol in -the same tradition; the perfect pattern of the keys. This is a -historical and not a theological outline, and it is not my duty here to -defend in detail that theology, but merely to point out that it could -not even be justified in design without being justified in detail--like -a key. Beyond the broad suggestion of this chapter I attempt no -apologetic about why the creed should be accepted. But in answer to the -historical query of why it was accepted, and is accepted, I answer for -millions of others in my reply; because it fits the lock; because it is -like life. It is one among many stories; only it happens to be a true -story. It is one among many philosophies; only it happens to be the -truth. We accept it; and the ground is solid under our feet and the road -is open before us. It does not imprison us in a dream of destiny or a -consciousness of the universal delusion. It opens to us not only -incredible heavens, but what seems to some an equally incredible earth, -and makes it credible. This is the sort of truth that is hard to explain -because it is a fact; but it is a fact to which we can call witnesses. -We are Christians and Catholics not because we worship a key, but -because we have passed a door; and felt the wind that is the trumpet of -liberty blow over the land of the living. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -THE FIVE DEATHS OF THE FAITH - - -It is not the purpose of this book to trace the subsequent history of -Christianity, especially the later history of Christianity; which -involves controversies of which I hope to write more fully elsewhere. It -is devoted only to the suggestion that Christianity, appearing amid -heathen humanity, had all the character of a unique thing and even of a -supernatural thing. It was not like any of the other things; and the -more we study it the less it looks like any of them. But there is a -certain rather peculiar character which marked it henceforward even down -to the present moment, with a note on which this book may well conclude. - -I have said that Asia and the ancient world had an air of being too old -to die. Christendom has had the very opposite fate. Christendom has had -a series of revolutions and in each one of them Christianity has died. -Christianity has died many times and risen again; for it had a god who -knew the way out of the grave. But the first extraordinary fact which -marks this history is this: that Europe has been turned upside down over -and over again; and that at the end of each of these revolutions the -same religion has again been found on top. The Faith is always -converting the age, not as an old religion but as a new religion. This -truth is hidden from many by a convention that is too little noticed. -Curiously enough, it is a convention of the sort which those who ignore -it claim especially to detect and denounce. They are always telling us -that priests and ceremonies are not religion and that religious -organisation can be a hollow sham; but they hardly realise how true it -is. It is so true that three or four times at least in the history of -Christendom the whole soul seemed to have gone out of Christianity; and -almost every man in his heart expected its end. This fact is only masked -in medieval and other times by that very official religion which such -critics pride themselves on seeing through. Christianity remained the -official religion of a Renaissance prince or the official religion of an -eighteenth-century bishop, just as an ancient mythology remained the -official religion of Julius Caesar or the Arian creed long remained the -official religion of Julian the Apostate. But there was a difference -between the cases of Julius and of Julian; because the Church had begun -its strange career. There was no reason why men like Julius should not -worship gods like Jupiter for ever in public and laugh at them for ever -in private. But when Julian treated Christianity as dead, he found it -had come to life again. He also found, incidentally, that there was not -the faintest sign of Jupiter ever coming to life again. This case of -Julian and the episode of Arianism is but the first of a series of -examples that can only be roughly indicated here. Arianism, as has been -said, had every human appearance of being the natural way in which that -particular superstition of Constantine might be expected to peter out. -All the ordinary stages had been passed through; the creed had become a -respectable thing, had become a ritual thing, had then been modified -into a rational thing; and the rationalists were ready to dissipate the -last remains of it, just as they do to-day. When Christianity rose again -suddenly and threw them, it was almost as unexpected as Christ rising -from the dead. But there are many other examples of the same thing, even -about the same time. The rush of missionaries from Ireland, for -instance, has all the air of an unexpected onslaught of young men on an -old world, and even on a Church that showed signs of growing old. Some -of them were martyred on the coast of Cornwall; and the chief authority -on Cornish antiquities told me that he did not believe for a moment that -they were martyred by heathens but (as he expressed it with some humour) -‘by rather slack Christians.’ - -Now if we were to dip below the surface of history, as it is not in the -scope of this argument to do, I suspect that we should find several -occasions when Christendom was thus to all appearance hollowed out from -within by doubt and indifference, so that only the old Christian shell -stood as the Pagan shell had stood so long. But the difference is that -in every such case, the sons were fanatical for the faith where the -fathers had been slack about it. This is obvious in the case of the -transition from the Renaissance to the Counter-Reformation. It is -obvious in the case of a transition from the eighteenth century to the -many Catholic revivals of our own time. But I suspect many other -examples which would be worthy of separate studies. - -The Faith is not a survival. It is not as if the Druids had managed -somehow to survive somewhere for two thousand years. That is what might -have happened in Asia or ancient Europe, in that indifference or -tolerance in which mythologies and philosophies could live for ever side -by side. It has not survived; it has returned again and again in this -western world of rapid change and institutions perpetually perishing. -Europe, in the tradition of Rome, was always trying revolution and -reconstruction; rebuilding a universal republic. And it always began by -rejecting this old stone and ended by making it the head of the corner; -by bringing it back from the rubbish-heap to make it the crown of the -capitol. Some stones of Stonehenge are standing and some are fallen; and -as the stone falleth so shall it lie. There has not been a Druidic -renaissance every century or two, with the young Druids crowned with -fresh mistletoe, dancing in the sun on Salisbury Plain. Stonehenge has -not been rebuilt in every style of architecture from the rude round -Norman to the last rococo of the Baroque. The sacred place of the Druids -is safe from the vandalism of restoration. - -But the Church in the West was not in a world where things were too old -to die; but in one in which they were always young enough to get killed. -The consequence was that superficially and externally it often did get -killed; nay, it sometimes wore out even without getting killed. And -there follows a fact I find it somewhat difficult to describe, yet which -I believe to be very real and rather important. As a ghost is the shadow -of a man, and in that sense the shadow of life, so at intervals there -passed across this endless life a sort of shadow of death. It came at -the moment when it would have perished had it been perishable. It -withered away everything that was perishable. If such animal parallels -were worthy of the occasion, we might say that the snake shuddered and -shed a skin and went on, or even that the cat went into convulsions as -it lost only one of its nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine lives. It is truer -to say, in a more dignified image, that a clock struck and nothing -happened; or that a bell tolled for an execution that was everlastingly -postponed. - -What was the meaning of all that dim but vast unrest of the twelfth -century; when, as it has been so finely said, Julian stirred in his -sleep? Why did there appear so strangely early, in the twilight of dawn -after the Dark Ages, so deep a scepticism as that involved in urging -nominalism against realism? For realism against nominalism was really -realism against rationalism, or something more destructive than what we -call rationalism. The answer is that just as some might have thought the -Church simply a part of the Roman Empire, so others later might have -thought the Church only a part of the Dark Ages. The Dark Ages ended as -the Empire had ended; and the Church should have departed with them, if -she had been also one of the shades of night. It was another of those -spectral deaths or simulations of death. I mean that if nominalism had -succeeded, it would have been as if Arianism had succeeded; it would -have been the beginning of a confession that Christianity had failed. -For nominalism is a far more fundamental scepticism than mere atheism. -Such was the question that was openly asked as the Dark Ages broadened -into that daylight that we call the modern world. But what was the -answer? The answer was Aquinas in the chair of Aristotle, taking all -knowledge for his province; and tens of thousands of lads, down to the -lowest ranks of peasant and serf, living in rags and on crusts about the -great colleges, to listen to the scholastic philosophy. - -What was the meaning of all that whisper of fear that ran round the West -under the shadow of Islam, and fills every old romance with incongruous -images of Saracen knights swaggering in Norway or the Hebrides? Why were -men in the extreme West, such as King John if I remember rightly, -accused of being secretly Moslems, as men are accused of being secretly -atheists? Why was there that fierce alarm among some of the authorities -about the rationalistic Arab version or Aristotle? Authorities are -seldom alarmed like that except when it is too late. The answer is that -hundreds of people probably believed in their hearts that Islam would -conquer Christendom; that Averroes was more rational than Anselm; that -the Saracen culture was really, as it was superficially, a superior -culture. Here again we should probably find a whole generation, the -older generation, very doubtful and depressed and weary. The coming of -Islam would only have been the coming of Unitarianism a thousand years -before its time. To many it may have seemed quite reasonable and quite -probable and quite likely to happen. If so, they would have been -surprised at what did happen. What did happen was a roar like thunder -from thousands and thousands of young men, throwing all their youth into -one exultant counter-charge; the Crusades. It was the sons of St. -Francis, the Jugglers of God, wandering singing over all the roads of -the world; it was the Gothic going up like a flight of arrows; it was -the waking of the world. In considering the war of the Albigensians, we -come to the breach in the heart of Europe and the landslide of a new -philosophy that nearly ended Christendom for ever. In that case the new -philosophy was also a very new philosophy; it was pessimism. It was none -the less like modern ideas because it was as old as Asia; most modern -ideas are. It was the Gnostics returning; but why did the Gnostics -return? Because it was the end of an epoch, like the end of the Empire; -and should have been the end of the Church. It was Schopenhauer hovering -over the future; but it was also Manichaeus rising from the dead; that -men might have death and that they might have it more abundantly. - -It is rather more obvious in the case of the Renaissance, simply because -the period is so much nearer to us and people know so much more about -it. But there is more even in that example than most people know. Apart -from the particular controversies which I wish to reserve for a separate -study, the period was far more chaotic than those controversies commonly -imply. When Protestants call Latimer a martyr to Protestantism, and -Catholics reply that Campion was a martyr to Catholicism, it is often -forgotten that many perished in such persecutions who could only be -described as martyrs to atheism or anarchism or even diabolism. That -world was almost as wild as our own; the men wandering about in it -included the sort of man who says there is no God, the sort of man who -says he is himself God, the sort of man who says something that nobody -can make head or tail of. If we could have the _conversation_ of the -age following the Renaissance, we should probably be shocked by its -shameless negations. The remarks attributed to Marlowe are probably -pretty typical of the talk in many intellectual taverns. The transition -from Pre-Reformation to Post-Reformation Europe was through a void of -very yawning questions; yet again in the long run the answer was the -same. It was one of those moments when, as Christ walked on the water, -so was Christianity walking in the air. - -But all these cases are remote in date and could only be proved in -detail. We can see the fact much more clearly in the case when the -paganism of the Renaissance ended Christianity and Christianity -unaccountably began all over again. But we can see it most clearly of -all in the case which is close to us and full of manifest and minute -evidence; the case of the great decline of religion that began about the -time of Voltaire. For indeed it is our own case; and we ourselves have -seen the decline of that decline. The two hundred years since Voltaire -do not flash past us at a glance like the fourth and fifth centuries or -the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. In our own case we can see this -oft-repeated process close at hand; we know how completely a society can -lose its fundamental religion without abolishing its official religion; -we know how men can all become agnostics long before they abolish -bishops. And we know that also in this last ending, which really did -look to us like the final ending, the incredible thing has happened -again; the Faith has a better following among the young men than among -the old. When Ibsen spoke of the new generation knocking at the door, he -certainly never expected that it would be the church-door. - -At least five times, therefore, with the Arian and the Albigensian, with -the Humanist sceptic, after Voltaire and after Darwin, the Faith has to -all appearance gone to the dogs. In each of these five cases it was the -dog that died. How complete was the collapse and how strange the -reversal, we can only see in detail in the case nearest to our own time. - -A thousand things have been said about the Oxford Movement and the -parallel French Catholic revival; but few have made us feel the simplest -fact about it; that it was a surprise. It was a puzzle as well as a -surprise; because it seemed to most people like a river turning -backwards from the sea and trying to climb back into the mountains. To -have read the literature of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries is -to know that nearly everybody had come to take it for granted that -religion was a thing that would continually broaden like a river, till -it reached an infinite sea. Some of them expected it to go down in a -cataract of catastrophe, most of them expected it to widen into an -estuary of equality and moderation; but all of them thought its -returning on itself a prodigy as incredible as witchcraft. In other -words, most moderate people thought that faith like freedom would be -slowly broadened down; and some advanced people thought that it would be -very rapidly broadened down, not to say flattened out. All that world of -Guizot and Macaulay and the commercial and scientific liberality was -perhaps more certain than any men before or since about the direction in -which the world is going. People were so certain about the direction -that they only differed about the pace. Many anticipated with alarm, and -a few with sympathy, a Jacobin revolt that should guillotine the -Archbishop of Canterbury or a Chartist riot that should hang the parsons -on the lamp-posts. But it seemed like a convulsion in nature that the -Archbishop instead of losing his head should be looking for his mitre; -and that instead of diminishing the respect due to parsons we should -strengthen it to the respect due to priests. It revolutionised their -very vision of revolution; and turned their very topsyturvydom -topsy-turvy. - -In short, the whole world being divided about whether the stream was -going slower or faster, became conscious of something vague but vast -that was going against the stream. Both in fact and figure there is -something deeply disturbing about this, and that for an essential -reason. A dead thing can go with the stream, but only a living thing can -go against it. A dead dog can be lifted on the leaping water with all -the swiftness of a leaping hound; but only a live dog can swim -backwards. A paper boat can ride the rising deluge with all the airy -arrogance of a fairy ship; but if the fairy ship sails upstream it is -really rowed by the fairies. And among the things that merely went with -the tide of apparent progress and enlargement, there was many a -demagogue or sophist whose wild gestures were in truth as lifeless as -the movement of a dead dog’s limbs wavering in the eddying water; and -many a philosophy uncommonly like a paper boat, of the sort that it is -not difficult to knock into a cocked hat. But even the truly living and -even life-giving things that went with that stream did not thereby prove -that they were living or life-giving. It was this other force that was -unquestionably and unaccountably alive; the mysterious and unmeasured -energy that was thrusting back the river. That was felt to be like the -movement of some great monster; and it was none the less clearly a -living monster because most people thought it a prehistoric monster. It -was none the less an unnatural, an incongruous, and to some a comic -upheaval; as if the Great Sea Serpent had suddenly risen out of the -Round Pond--unless we consider the Sea Serpent as more likely to live in -the Serpentine. This flippant element in the fantasy must not be missed, -for it was one of the clearest testimonies to the unexpected nature of -the reversal. That age did really feel that a preposterous quality in -prehistoric animals belonged also to historic rituals; that mitres and -tiaras were like the horns or crests of antediluvian creatures; and -that appealing to a Primitive Church was like dressing up as a Primitive -Man. - -The world is still puzzled by that movement; but most of all because it -still moves. I have said something elsewhere of the rather random sort -of reproaches that are still directed against it and its much greater -consequences; it is enough to say here that the more such critics -reproach it the less they explain it. In a sense it is my concern here, -if not to explain it, at least to suggest the direction of the -explanation; but above all, it is my concern to point out one particular -thing about it. And that is that it had all happened before; and even -many times before. - -To sum up, in so far as it is true that recent centuries have seen an -attenuation of Christian doctrine, recent centuries have only seen what -the most remote centuries have seen. And even the modern example has -only ended as the medieval and pre-medieval examples ended. It is -already clear, and grows clearer every day, that it is not going to end -in the disappearance of the diminished creed; but rather in the return -of those parts of it that had really disappeared. It is going to end as -the Arian compromise ended, as the attempts at a compromise with -Nominalism and even with Albigensianism ended. But the point to seize in -the modern case, as in all the other cases, is that what returns is not -in that sense a simplified theology; not according to that view a -purified theology; it is simply theology. It is that enthusiasm for -theological studies that marked the most doctrinal ages; it is the -divine science. An old Don with D.D. after his name may have become the -typical figure of a bore; but that was because he was himself bored with -his theology, not because he was excited about it. It was precisely -because he was admittedly more interested in the Latin of Plautus than -in the Latin of Augustine, in the Greek of Xenophon than in the Greek of -Chrysostom. It was precisely because he was more interested in a dead -tradition than in a decidedly living tradition. In short, it was -precisely because he was himself a type of the time in which Christian -faith was weak. It was not because men would not hail, if they could, -the wonderful and almost wild vision of a Doctor of Divinity. - -There are people who say they wish Christianity to remain as a spirit. -They mean, very literally, that they wish it to remain as a ghost. But -it is not going to remain as a ghost. What follows this process of -apparent death is not the lingering of the shade; it is the resurrection -of the body. These people are quite prepared to shed pious and -reverential tears over the Sepulchre of the Son of Man; what they are -not prepared for is the Son of God walking once more upon the hills of -morning. These people, and indeed most people, were indeed by this time -quite accustomed to the idea that the old Christian candle-light would -fade into the light of common day. To many of them it did quite honestly -appear like that pale yellow flame of a candle when it is left burning -in daylight. It was all the more unexpected, and therefore all the more -unmistakable, that the seven-branched candle-stick suddenly towered to -heaven like a miraculous tree and flamed until the sun turned pale. But -other ages have seen the day conquer the candle-light and then the -candle-light conquer the day. Again and again, before our time, men have -grown content with a diluted doctrine. And again and again there has -followed on that dilution, coming as out of the darkness in a crimson -cataract, the strength of the red original wine. And we only say once -more to-day as has been said many times by our fathers: ‘Long years and -centuries ago our fathers or the founders of our people drank, as they -dreamed, of the blood of God. Long years and centuries have passed since -the strength of that giant vintage has been anything but a legend of the -age of giants. Centuries ago already is the dark time of the second -fermentation, when the wine of Catholicism turned into the vinegar of -Calvinism. Long since that bitter drink has been itself diluted; rinsed -out and washed away by the waters of oblivion and the wave of the world. -Never did we think to taste again even that bitter tang of sincerity and -the spirit, still less the richer and the sweeter strength of the purple -vineyards in our dreams of the age of gold. Day by day and year by year -we have lowered our hopes and lessened our convictions; we have grown -more and more used to seeing those vats and vineyards overwhelmed in the -water-floods and the last savour and suggestion of that special element -fading like a stain of purple upon a sea of grey. We have grown used to -dilution, to dissolution, to a watering down that went on for ever. But -Thou hast kept the good wine until now.’ - -This is the final fact, and it is the most extraordinary of all. The -faith has not only often died but it has often died of old age. It has -not only been often killed but it has often died a natural death; in the -sense of coming to a natural and necessary end. It is obvious that it -has survived the most savage and the most universal persecutions from -the shock of the Diocletian fury to the shock of the French Revolution. -But it has a more strange and even a more weird tenacity; it has -survived not only war but peace. It has not only died often but -degenerated often and decayed often; it has survived its own weakness -and even its own surrender. We need not repeat what is so obvious about -the beauty of the end of Christ in its wedding of youth and death. But -this is almost as if Christ had lived to the last possible span, had -been a white-haired sage of a hundred and died of natural decay, and -then had risen again rejuvenated, with trumpets and the rending of the -sky. It was said truly enough that human Christianity in its recurrent -weakness was sometimes too much wedded to the powers of the world; but -if it was wedded it has very often been widowed. It is a strangely -immortal sort of widow. An enemy may have said at one moment that it was -but an aspect of the power of the Caesars; and it sounds as strange -to-day as to call it an aspect of the Pharaohs. An enemy might say that -it was the official faith of feudalism; and it sounds as convincing now -as to say that it was bound to perish with the ancient Roman villa. All -these things did indeed run their course to its normal end; and there -seemed no course for the religion but to end with them. It ended and it -began again. - -‘Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my words shall not pass away.’ -The civilisation of antiquity was the whole world: and men no more -dreamed of its ending than of the ending of daylight. They could not -imagine another order unless it were in another world. The civilisation -of the world has passed away and those words have not passed away. In -the long night of the Dark Ages feudalism was so familiar a thing that -no man could imagine himself without a lord: and religion was so woven -into that network that no man would have believed they could be torn -asunder. Feudalism itself was torn to rags and rotted away in the -popular life of the true Middle Ages; and the first and freshest power -in that new freedom was the old religion. Feudalism had passed away, and -the words did not pass away. The whole medieval order, in many ways so -complete and almost cosmic a home for man, wore out gradually in its -turn: and here at least it was thought that the words would die. They -went forth across the radiant abyss of the Renaissance and in fifty -years were using all its light and learning for new religious -foundations, new apologetics, new saints. It was supposed to have been -withered up at last in the dry light of the Age of Reason; it was -supposed to have disappeared ultimately in the earthquake of the Age of -Revolution. Science explained it away; and it was still there. History -disinterred it in the past; and it appeared suddenly in the future. -To-day it stands once more in our path; and even as we watch it, it -grows. - -If our social relations and records retain their continuity, if men -really learn to apply reason to the accumulating facts of so crushing a -story, it would seem that sooner or later even its enemies will learn -from their incessant and interminable disappointments not to look for -anything so simple as its death. They may continue to war with it, but -it will be as they war with nature; as they war with the landscape, as -they war with the skies. ‘Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my words -shall not pass away.’ They will watch for it to stumble; they will watch -for it to err; they will no longer watch for it to end. Insensibly, even -unconsciously, they will in their own silent anticipations fulfil the -relative terms of that astounding prophecy; they will forget to watch -for the mere extinction of what has so often been vainly extinguished; -and will learn instinctively to look first for the coming of the comet -or the freezing of the star. - - - - -CONCLUSION - -THE SUMMARY OF THIS BOOK - - -I have taken the liberty once or twice of borrowing the excellent phrase -about an Outline of History; though this study of a special truth and a -special error can of course claim no sort of comparison with the rich -and many-sided encyclopedia of history, for which that name was chosen. -And yet there is a certain reason in the reference; and a sense in which -the one thing touches and even cuts across the other. For the story of -the world as told by Mr. Wells could here only be criticised as an -outline. And, strangely enough, it seems to me that it is only wrong as -an outline. It is admirable as an accumulation of history; it is -splendid as a storehouse or treasury of history; it is a fascinating -disquisition on history; it is most attractive as an amplification of -history; but it is quite false as an outline of history. The one thing -that seems to me quite wrong about it is the outline; the sort of -outline that can really be a single line, like that which makes all the -difference between a caricature of the profile of Mr. Winston Churchill -and of Sir Alfred Mond. In simple and homely language, I mean the things -that stick out; the things that make the simplicity of a silhouette. I -think the proportions are wrong; the proportions of what is certain as -compared with what is uncertain, of what played a great part as compared -with what played a smaller part, of what is ordinary and what is -extraordinary, of what really lies level with an average and what stands -out as an exception. - -I do not say it as a small criticism of a great writer, and I have no -reason to do so; for in my own much smaller task I feel I have failed in -very much the same way. I am very doubtful whether I have conveyed to -the reader the main point I meant about the proportions of history, and -why I have dwelt so much more on some things than others. I doubt -whether I have clearly fulfilled the plan that I set out in the -introductory chapter; and for that reason I add these lines as a sort of -summary in a concluding chapter. I do believe that the things on which I -have insisted are more essential to an outline of history than the -things which I have subordinated or dismissed. I do not believe that the -past is most truly pictured as a thing in which humanity merely fades -away into nature, or civilisation merely fades away into barbarism, or -religion fades away into mythology, or our own religion fades away into -the religions of the world. In short I do not believe that the best way -to produce an outline of history is to rub out the lines. I believe -that, of the two, it would be far nearer the truth to tell the tale very -simply, like a primitive myth about a man who made the sun and stars or -a god who entered the body of a sacred monkey. I will therefore sum up -all that has gone before in what seems to me a realistic and reasonably -proportioned statement; the short story of mankind. - -In the land lit by that neighbouring star, whose blaze is the broad -daylight, there are many and very various things, motionless and moving. -There moves among them a race that is in its relation to the others a -race of gods. The fact is not lessened but emphasised because it can -behave like a race of demons. Its distinction is not an individual -illusion, like one bird pluming itself on its own plumes; it is a solid -and a many-sided thing. It is demonstrated in the very speculations that -have led to its being denied. That men, the gods of this lower world, -are linked with it in various ways is true; but it is another aspect of -the same truth. That they grow as the grass grows and walk as the -beasts walk is a secondary necessity that sharpens the primary -distinction. It is like saying that a magician must after all have the -appearance of a man; or that even the fairies could not dance without -feet. It has lately been the fashion to focus the mind entirely on these -mild and subordinate resemblances and to forget the main fact -altogether. It is customary to insist that man resembles the other -creatures. Yes; and that very resemblance he alone can see. The fish -does not trace the fish-bone pattern in the fowls of the air; or the -elephant and the emu compare skeletons. Even in the sense in which man -is at one with the universe it is an utterly lonely universality. The -very sense that he is united with all things is enough to sunder him -from all. - -Looking around him by this unique light, as lonely as the literal flame -that he alone has kindled, this demigod or demon of the visible world -makes that world visible. He sees around him a world of a certain style -or type. It seems to proceed by certain rules or at least repetitions. -He sees a green architecture that builds itself without visible hands; -but which builds itself into a very exact plan or pattern, like a design -already drawn in the air by an invisible finger. It is not, as is now -vaguely suggested, a vague thing. It is not a growth or a groping of -blind life. Each seeks an end; a glorious and radiant end, even for -every daisy or dandelion we see in looking across the level of a common -field. In the very shape of things there is more than green growth; -there is the finality of the flower. It is a world of crowns. This -impression, whether or no it be an illusion, has so profoundly -influenced this race of thinkers and masters of the material world, that -the vast majority have been moved to take a certain view of that world. -They have concluded, rightly or wrongly, that the world had a plan as -the tree seemed to have a plan; and an end and crown like the flower. -But so long as the race of thinkers was able to think, it was obvious -that the admission of this idea of a plan brought with it another -thought more thrilling and even terrible. There was some one else, some -strange and unseen being, who had designed these things, if indeed they -were designed. There was a stranger who was also a friend; a mysterious -benefactor who had been before them and built up the woods and hills for -their coming, and had kindled the sunrise against their rising, as a -servant kindles a fire. Now this idea of a mind that gives a meaning to -the universe has received more and more confirmation within the minds of -men, by meditations and experiences much more subtle and searching than -any such argument about the external plan of the world. But I am -concerned here with keeping the story in its most simple and even -concrete terms; and it is enough to say here that most men, including -the wisest men, have come to the conclusion that the world has such a -final purpose and therefore such a first cause. But most men in some -sense separated themselves from the wisest men, when it came to the -treatment of that idea. There came into existence two ways of treating -that idea; which between them make up most of the religious history of -the world. - -The majority, like the minority, had this strong sense of a second -meaning in things; of a strange master who knew the secret of the world. -But the majority, the mob or mass of men, naturally tended to treat it -rather in the spirit of gossip. The gossip, like all gossip, contained a -great deal of truth and falsehood. The world began to tell itself tales -about the unknown being or his sons or servants or messengers. Some of -the tales may truly be called old wives’ tales; as professing only to be -very remote memories of the morning of the world; myths about the baby -moon or the half-baked mountains. Some of them might more truly be -called travellers’ tales; as being curious but contemporary tales -brought from certain borderlands of experience; such as miraculous -cures or those that bring whispers of what has happened to the dead. -Many of them are probably true tales; enough of them are probably true -to keep a person of real common sense more or less conscious that there -really is something rather marvellous behind the cosmic curtain. But in -a sense it is only going by appearances; even if the appearances are -called apparitions. It is a matter of appearances--and disappearances. -At the most these gods are ghosts; that is, they are glimpses. For most -of us they are rather gossip about glimpses. And for the rest, the whole -world is full of rumours, most of which are almost avowedly romances. -The great majority of the tales about gods and ghosts and the invisible -king are told, if not for the sake of the tale, at least for the sake of -the topic. They are evidence of the eternal interest of the theme; they -are not evidence of anything else, and they are not meant to be. They -are mythology, or the poetry that is not bound in books--or bound in any -other way. - -Meanwhile the minority, the sages or thinkers, had withdrawn apart and -had taken up an equally congenial trade. They were drawing up plans of -the world; of the world which all believed to have a plan. They were -trying to set forth the plan seriously and to scale. They were setting -their minds directly to the mind that had made the mysterious world; -considering what sort of a mind it might be and what its ultimate -purpose might be. Some of them made that mind much more impersonal than -mankind has generally made it; some simplified it almost to a blank; a -few, a very few, doubted it altogether. One or two of the more morbid -fancied that it might be evil and an enemy; just one or two of the more -degraded in the other class worshipped demons instead of gods. But most -of these theorists were theists: and they not only saw a moral plan in -nature, but they generally laid down a moral plan for humanity. Most of -them were good men who did good work: and they were remembered and -reverenced in various ways. They were scribes; and their scriptures -became more or less holy scriptures. They were law-givers; and their -tradition became not only legal but ceremonial. We may say that they -received divine honours, in the sense in which kings and great captains -in certain countries often received divine honours. In a word, wherever -the other popular spirit, the spirit of legend and gossip, could come -into play, it surrounded them with the more mystical atmosphere of the -myths. Popular poetry turned the sages into saints. But that was all it -did. They remained themselves; men never really forgot that they were -men, only made into gods in the sense that they were made into heroes. -Divine Plato, like Divus Caesar, was a title and not a dogma. In Asia, -where the atmosphere was more mythological, the man was made to look -more like a myth, but he remained a man. He remained a man of a certain -special class or school of men, receiving and deserving great honour -from mankind. It is the order or school of the philosophers; the men who -have set themselves seriously to trace the order across any apparent -chaos in the vision of life. Instead of living on imaginative rumours -and remote traditions and the tail-end of exceptional experiences about -the mind and meaning behind the world, they have tried in a sense to -project the primary purpose of that mind _a priori_. They have tried to -put on paper a possible plan of the world; almost as if the world were -not yet made. - -Right in the middle of all these things stands up an enormous exception. -It is quite unlike anything else. It is a thing final like the trump of -doom, though it is also a piece of good news; or news that seems too -good to be true. It is nothing less than the loud assertion that this -mysterious maker of the world has visited his world in person. It -declares that really and even recently, or right in the middle of -historic times, there did walk into the world this original invisible -being; about whom the thinkers make theories and the mythologists hand -down myths; the Man Who Made the World. That such a higher personality -exists behind all things had indeed always been implied by all the best -thinkers, as well as by all the most beautiful legends. But nothing of -this sort had ever been implied in any of them. It is simply false to -say that the other sages and heroes had claimed to be that mysterious -master and maker, of whom the world had dreamed and disputed. Not one of -them had ever claimed to be anything of the sort. Not one of their sects -or schools had ever claimed that they had claimed to be anything of the -sort. The most that any religious prophet had said was that he was the -true servant of such a being. The most that any visionary had ever said -was that men might catch glimpses of the glory of that spiritual being; -or much more often of lesser spiritual beings. The most that any -primitive myth had ever suggested was that the Creator was present at -the Creation. But that the Creator was present at scenes a little -subsequent to the supper-parties of Horace, and talked with -tax-collectors and government officials in the detailed daily life of -the Roman Empire, and that this fact continued to be firmly asserted by -the whole of that great civilisation for more than a thousand -years--that is something utterly unlike anything else in nature. It is -the one great startling statement that man has made since he spoke his -first articulate word, instead of barking like a dog. Its unique -character can be used as an argument against it as well as for it. It -would be easy to concentrate on it as a case of isolated insanity; but -it makes nothing but dust and nonsense of comparative religion. - -It came on the world with a wind and rush of running messengers -proclaiming that apocalyptic portent; and it is not unduly fanciful to -say they are running still. What puzzles the world, and its wise -philosophers and fanciful pagan poets, about the priests and people of -the Catholic Church is that they still behave as if they were -messengers. A messenger does not dream about what his message might be, -or argue about what it probably would be; he delivers it as it is. It is -not a theory or a fancy but a fact. It is not relevant to this -intentionally rudimentary outline to prove in detail that it is a fact; -but merely to point out that these messengers do deal with it as men -deal with a fact. All that is condemned in Catholic tradition, -authority, and dogmatism and the refusal to retract and modify, are but -the natural human attributes of a man with a message relating to a fact. -I desire to avoid in this last summary all the controversial -complexities that may once more cloud the simple lines of that strange -story; which I have already called, in words that are much too weak, the -strangest story in the world. I desire merely to mark those main lines -and specially to mark where the great line is really to be drawn. The -religion of the world, in its right proportions, is not divided into -fine shades of mysticism or more or less rational forms of mythology. It -is divided by the line between the men who are bringing that message and -the men who have not yet heard it, or cannot yet believe it. - -But when we translate the terms of that strange tale back into the more -concrete and complicated terminology of our time, we find it covered by -names and memories of which the very familiarity is a falsification. For -instance, when we say that a country contains so many Moslems, we really -mean that it contains so many monotheists; and we really mean, by that, -that it contains so many men; men with the old average assumption of -men--that the invisible ruler remains invisible. They hold it along with -the customs of a certain culture and under the simpler laws of a certain -law-giver; but so they would if their law-giver were Lycurgus or Solon. -They testify to something which is a necessary and noble truth; but was -never a new truth. Their creed is not a new colour; it is the neutral -and normal tint that is the background of the many-coloured life of man. -Mahomet did not, like the Magi, find a new star; he saw through his own -particular window a glimpse of the great grey field of the ancient -starlight. So when we say that the country contains so many Confucians -or Buddhists, we mean that it contains so many Pagans whose prophets -have given them another and rather vaguer version of the invisible -power; making it not only invisible but almost impersonal. When we say -that they also have temples and idols and priests and periodical -festivals, we simply mean that this sort of heathen is enough of a human -being to admit the popular element of pomp and pictures and feasts and -fairy-tales. We only mean that Pagans have more sense than Puritans. But -what the gods are supposed to _be_, what the priests are commissioned to -_say_, is not a sensational secret like what those running messengers of -the Gospel had to say. Nobody else except those messengers has any -Gospel; nobody else has any good news; for the simple reason that nobody -else has any news. - -Those runners gather impetus as they run. Ages afterwards they still -speak as if something had just happened. They have not lost the speed -and momentum of messengers; they have hardly lost, as it were, the wild -eyes of witnesses. In the Catholic Church, which is the cohort of the -message, there are still those headlong acts of holiness that speak of -something rapid and recent; a self-sacrifice that startles the world -like a suicide. But it is not a suicide; it is not pessimistic; it is -still as optimistic as St. Francis of the flowers and birds. It is newer -in spirit than the newest schools of thought; and it is almost certainly -on the eve of new triumphs. For these men serve a mother who seems to -grow more beautiful as new generations rise up and call her blessed. We -might sometimes fancy that the Church grows younger as the world grows -old. - -For this is the last proof of the miracle; that something so -supernatural should have become so natural. I mean that anything so -unique when seen from the outside should only seem universal when seen -from the inside. I have not minimised the scale of the miracle, as some -of our milder theologians think it wise to do. Rather have I -deliberately dwelt on that incredible interruption, as a blow that broke -the very backbone of history. I have great sympathy with the -monotheists, the Moslems, or the Jews, to whom it seems a blasphemy; a -blasphemy that might shake the world. But it did not shake the world; it -steadied the world. That fact, the more we consider it, will seem more -solid and more strange. I think it a piece of plain justice to all the -unbelievers to insist upon the audacity of the act of faith that is -demanded of them. I willingly and warmly agree that it is, in itself, a -suggestion at which we might expect even the brain of the believer to -reel, when he realised his own belief. But the brain of the believer -does not reel; it is the brains of the unbelievers that reel. We can see -their brains reeling on every side and into every extravagance of ethics -and psychology; into pessimism and the denial of life; into pragmatism -and the denial of logic; seeking their omens in nightmares and their -canons in contradictions; shrieking for fear at the far-off sight of -things beyond good and evil, or whispering of strange stars where two -and two make five. Meanwhile this solitary thing that seems at first so -outrageous in outline remains solid and sane in substance. It remains -the moderator of all these manias; rescuing reason from the Pragmatists -exactly as it rescued laughter from the Puritans. I repeat that I have -deliberately emphasised its intrinsically defiant and dogmatic -character. The mystery is how anything so startling should have remained -defiant and dogmatic and yet become perfectly normal and natural. I have -admitted freely that, considering the incident in itself, a man who says -he is God may be classed with a man who says he is glass. But the man -who says he is glass is not a glazier making windows for all the world. -He does not remain for after ages as a shining and crystalline figure, -in whose light everything is as clear as crystal. - -But this madness has remained sane. The madness has remained sane when -everything else went mad. The madhouse has been a house to which, age -after age, men are continually coming back as to a home. That is the -riddle that remains; that anything so abrupt and abnormal should still -be found a habitable and hospitable thing. I care not if the sceptic -says it is a tall story; I cannot see how so toppling a tower could -stand so long without foundation. Still less can I see how it could -become, as it has become, the home of man. Had it merely appeared and -disappeared, it might possibly have been remembered or explained as the -last leap of the rage of illusion, the ultimate myth of the ultimate -mood, in which the mind struck the sky and broke. But the mind did not -break. It is the one mind that remains unbroken in the break-up of the -world. If it were an error, it seems as if the error could hardly have -lasted a day. If it were a mere ecstasy, it would seem that such an -ecstasy could not endure for an hour. It has endured for nearly two -thousand years; and the world within it has been more lucid, more -levelheaded, more reasonable in its hopes, more healthy in its -instincts, more humorous and cheerful in the face of fate and death, -than all the world outside. For it was the soul of Christendom that came -forth from the incredible Christ; and the soul of it was common sense. -Though we dared not look on His face we could look on His fruits; and by -His fruits we should know Him. The fruits are solid and the fruitfulness -is much more than a metaphor; and nowhere in this sad world are boys -happier in apple-trees, or men in more equal chorus singing as they -tread the vine, than under the fixed flash of this instant and -intolerant enlightenment; the lightning made eternal as the light. - - - - -APPENDIX I - -ON PREHISTORIC MAN - - -In a sense it would be better if history were more superficial. What is -wanted is a reminder of the things that are seen so quickly that they -are forgotten almost as quickly. The one moral of this book, in a manner -of speaking, is that first thoughts are best. So a flash might reveal a -landscape; with the Eiffel Tower or the Matterhorn standing up in it as -they would never stand up again in the light of common day. I ended the -book with an image of everlasting lightning; in a very different sense, -alas, this little flash has lasted only too long. But the method has -also certain practical disadvantages upon which I think it well to add -these two notes. It may seem to simplify too much and to ignore out of -ignorance. I feel this especially in the passage about the prehistoric -pictures; which is not concerned with all that the learned may learn -from prehistoric pictures, but with the single point of what anybody -could learn from there being any prehistoric pictures at all. I am -conscious that this attempt to express it in terms of innocence may -exaggerate even my own ignorance. Without any pretence of scientific -research, I should be sorry to have it thought that I knew no more than -I had occasion to say in that passage of the stages into which primitive -humanity has been divided. I am aware, of course, that the story is -elaborately stratified; and that there were many such stages before the -Cro-Magnan or any peoples with whom we associate such pictures. Indeed -recent studies about the Neanderthal and other races rather tend to -repeat the moral that is here most relevant. The notion, noted in these -pages, of something necessarily slow or late in the development of -religion will gain little indeed from these later revelations about the -precursors of the reindeer picture-maker. The learned appear to hold -that, whether the reindeer picture could be religious or not, the people -that lived before it were religious already. Men were already burying -their dead with the care that is the significant sign of mystery and -hope. This obviously brings us back to the same argument; an argument -that is not approached by any measurement of the earlier man’s skull. It -is little use to compare the head of the man with the head of the -monkey, if it certainly has never come into the head of the monkey to -bury another monkey with nuts in his grave to help him towards a -heavenly monkey-house. Talking of skulls, we all know the story of the -finding of a Cro-Magnan skull that is much larger and finer than a -modern skull. It is a very funny story; because an eminent evolutionist, -awakening to a somewhat belated caution, protested against anything -being inferred from one specimen. It is the duty of a solitary skull to -prove that our fathers were our inferiors. Any solitary skull presuming -to prove that they were superior is felt to be suffering from swelled -head. - - - - -APPENDIX II - -ON AUTHORITY AND ACCURACY - - -In this book, which is merely meant as a popular criticism of popular -fallacies, often indeed of very vulgar errors, I feel that I have -sometimes given an impression of scoffing at serious scientific work. It -was, however, the very reverse of my intention. I am not arguing with -the scientist who explains the elephant, but only with the sophist who -explains it away. And as a matter of fact the sophist plays to the -gallery, as he did in ancient Greece. He appeals to the ignorant, -especially when he appeals to the learned. But I never meant my own -criticism to be an impertinence to the truly learned. We all owe an -infinite debt to the researches, especially the recent researches, of -single-minded students in these matters; and I have only professed to -pick up things here and there from them. I have not loaded my abstract -argument with quotations and references, which only make a man look more -learned than he is; but in some cases I find that my own loose fashion -of allusion is rather misleading about my own meaning. The passage about -Chaucer and the Child Martyr is badly expressed; I only mean that the -English poet probably had in mind the English saint; of whose story he -gives a sort of foreign version. In the same way two statements in the -chapter on Mythology follow each other in such a way that it may seem to -be suggested that the second story about Monotheism refers to the -Southern Seas. I may explain that Atahocan belongs not to Australasian -but to American savages. So in the chapter called ‘The Antiquity of -Civilisation,’ which I feel to be the most unsatisfactory, I have given -my own impression of the meaning of the development of Egyptian monarchy -too much, perhaps, as if it were identical with the facts on which it -was founded, as given in works like those of Professor J. L. Myres. But -the confusion was not intentional; still less was there any intention to -imply, in the remainder of the chapter, that the anthropological -speculations about races are less valuable than they undoubtedly are. My -criticism is strictly relative; I may say that the Pyramids are plainer -than the tracks of the desert, without denying that wiser men than I may -see tracks in what is to me the trackless sand. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EVERLASTING MAN *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where - you are located before using this eBook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that: - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without -widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/65688-0.zip b/old/65688-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 7663af3..0000000 --- a/old/65688-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65688-h.zip b/old/65688-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 5b5cc6c..0000000 --- a/old/65688-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/65688-h/65688-h.htm b/old/65688-h/65688-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 682daa6..0000000 --- a/old/65688-h/65688-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9583 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" -"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> - -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en" xml:lang="en"> - <head> <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> -<title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Everlasting Man, by G. K. Chesterton. -</title> -<style type="text/css"> - -a:link {background-color:#ffffff;color:blue;text-decoration:none;} - - link {background-color:#ffffff;color:blue;text-decoration:none;} - -a:visited {background-color:#ffffff;color:purple;text-decoration:none;} - -a:hover {background-color:#ffffff;color:#FF0000;text-decoration:underline;} - -big {font-size: 130%;} - -body{margin-left:4%;margin-right:6%;background:#ffffff;color:black;font-family:"Times New Roman", serif;font-size:medium;} - -.c {text-align:center;text-indent:0%;} - -.fint {text-align:center;text-indent:0%; -margin-top:2em;} - - h1 {margin-top:5%;text-align:center;clear:both; -font-weight:normal;} - - h2 {margin-top:4%;margin-bottom:2%;text-align:center;clear:both; - font-size:150%;font-weight:normal;} - - h3 {margin:4% auto 2% auto;text-align:center;clear:both; -font-size:100%;font-weight:normal;} - - hr {width:90%;margin:2em auto 2em auto;clear:both;color:black;} - - hr.full {width: 60%;margin:2% auto 2% auto;border-top:1px solid black; -padding:.1em;border-bottom:1px solid black;border-left:none;border-right:none;} - - img {border:none;} - -.nind {text-indent:0%;} - - p {margin-top:.2em;text-align:justify;margin-bottom:.2em;text-indent:4%;} - -.pagenum {font-style:normal;position:absolute; -left:95%;font-size:55%;text-align:right;color:gray; -background-color:#ffffff;font-variant:normal;font-style:normal;font-weight:normal;text-decoration:none;text-indent:0em;} -.x-bookmaker .pagenum {display: none;} - -.rt {text-align:right;} - -small {font-size: 70%;} - -.smcap {font-variant:small-caps;font-size:120%;} - -table {margin-top:2%;margin-bottom:2%;margin-left:auto;margin-right:auto;border:none;} - -th {padding-top:1em;padding-bottom:.25em;} - -div.poetry {text-align:center;} -div.poem {font-size:90%;margin:auto auto;text-indent:0%; -display: inline-block; text-align: left;} -.poem .stanza {margin-top: 1em;margin-bottom:1em;} -.poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i1 {display: block; margin-left: .45em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i3 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -</style> - </head> -<body> - -<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Everlasting Man, by G. K. Chesterton</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Everlasting Man</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: G. K. Chesterton</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: June 24, 2021 [eBook #65688]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Tim Lindell, Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EVERLASTING MAN ***</div> -<hr class="full" /> - -<div class="c"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" height="500" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="c">THE EVERLASTING MAN</p> - -<h1> -THE<br /> -EVERLASTING MAN</h1> - -<p class="c">BY<br /> -G. K. CHESTERTON<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -HODDER AND STOUGHTON<br /> -LIMITED LONDON<br /> -<br /> -<br /><small> -Made and Printed in Great Britain<br /> -T. and A. <span class="smcap">Constable Ltd.</span>, Printers, Edinburgh</small> -</p> - -<h2><a name="PREFATORY_NOTE" id="PREFATORY_NOTE"></a>PREFATORY NOTE</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">This</span> book needs a preliminary note that its scope be not misunderstood. -The view suggested is historical rather than theological, and does not -deal directly with a religious change which has been the chief event of -my own life; and about which I am already writing a more purely -controversial volume. It is impossible, I hope, for any Catholic to -write any book on any subject, above all this subject, without showing -that he is a Catholic; but this study is not specially concerned with -the differences between a Catholic and a Protestant. Much of it is -devoted to many sorts of Pagans rather than any sort of Christians; and -its thesis is that those who say that Christ stands side by side with -similar myths, and his religion side by side with similar religions, are -only repeating a very stale formula contradicted by a very striking -fact. To suggest this I have not needed to go much beyond matters known -to us all; I make no claim to learning; and have to depend for some -things, as has rather become the fashion, on those who are more learned. -As I have more than once differed from Mr. H. G. Wells in his view of -history, it is the more right that I should here congratulate him on the -courage and constructive imagination which carried through his vast and -varied and intensely interesting work; but still more on having asserted -the reasonable right of the amateur to do what he can with the facts -which the specialists provide.</p> - -<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary=""> -<tr><td colspan="2"> </td><td><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> - -<tr><td colspan="2"><a href="#INTRODUCTION">INTRODUCTION</a>: <span class="smcap">The Plan of this Book</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_3">3</a></td></tr> -<tr><th colspan="3"><a href="#PART_I"><i>PART I</i><br /> -ON THE CREATURE CALLED MAN</a></th></tr> -<tr><td><small>CHAP.</small></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#CHAPTER_I-a">I.</a></td><td> <span class="smcap">The Man in the Cave</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_19">19</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#CHAPTER_II-a">II.</a></td><td> <span class="smcap">Professors and Prehistoric Men</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_39">39</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#CHAPTER_III-a">III.</a></td><td> <span class="smcap">The Antiquity of Civilisation</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_58">58</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV-a">IV.</a></td><td> <span class="smcap">God and Comparative Religion</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_89">89</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#CHAPTER_V-a">V.</a></td><td> <span class="smcap">Man and Mythologies</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_111">111</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI-a">VI.</a></td><td> <span class="smcap">The Demons and the Philosophers</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_129">129</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII-a">VII.</a></td><td> <span class="smcap">The War of the Gods and Demons</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_154">154</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII-a">VIII.</a></td><td> <span class="smcap">The End of the World</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_171">171</a></td></tr> -<tr><th colspan="3"><a href="#PART_II"><i>PART II</i><br /> -ON THE MAN CALLED CHRIST</a></th></tr> -<tr><td><small>CHAP.</small></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#CHAPTER_I-b">I.</a></td><td> <span class="smcap">The God in the Cave</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_191">191</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#CHAPTER_II-b">II.</a></td><td> <span class="smcap">The Riddles of the Gospel</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_211">211</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#CHAPTER_III-b">III.</a></td><td> <span class="smcap">The Strangest Story in the World</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_227">227</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV-b">IV.</a></td><td> <span class="smcap">The Witness of the Heretics</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_245">245</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#CHAPTER_V-b">V.</a></td><td> <span class="smcap">The Escape from Paganism</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_267">267</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI-b">VI.</a></td><td> <span class="smcap">The Five Deaths of the Faith</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_288">288</a></td></tr> -<tr><td colspan="2"><a href="#CONCLUSION">CONCLUSION</a>: <span class="smcap">The Summary of this Book</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_302">302</a></td></tr> -<tr><td colspan="2"><a href="#APPENDIX_I">APPENDIX I</a>.: <span class="smcap">On Prehistoric Man</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_313">313</a></td></tr> -<tr><td colspan="2"><a href="#APPENDIX_II">APPENDIX II</a>.: <span class="smcap">On Authority and Accuracy</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_315">315</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_3" id="page_3">{3}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="INTRODUCTION" id="INTRODUCTION"></a>INTRODUCTION<br /><br /> -THE PLAN OF THIS BOOK</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">There</span> are two ways of getting home; and one of them is to stay there. -The other is to walk round the whole world till we come back to the same -place; and I tried to trace such a journey in a story I once wrote. It -is, however, a relief to turn from that topic to another story that I -never wrote. Like every book I never wrote, it is by far the best book I -have ever written. It is only too probable that I shall never write it, -so I will use it symbolically here; for it was a symbol of the same -truth. I conceived it as a romance of those vast valleys with sloping -sides, like those along which the ancient White Horses of Wessex are -scrawled along the flanks of the hills. It concerned some boy whose farm -or cottage stood on such a slope, and who went on his travels to find -something, such as the effigy and grave of some giant; and when he was -far enough from home he looked back and saw that his own farm and -kitchen-garden, shining flat on the hill-side like the colours and -quarterings of a shield, were but parts of some such gigantic figure, on -which he had always lived, but which was too large and too close to be -seen. That, I think, is a true picture of the progress of any real -independent intelligence to-day; and that is the point of this book.</p> - -<p>The point of this book, in other words, is that the next best thing to -being really inside Christendom is to be really outside it. And a -particular point of it is that the popular critics of Christianity are -not<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_4" id="page_4">{4}</a></span> really outside it. They are on a debatable ground, in every sense -of the term. They are doubtful in their very doubts. Their criticism has -taken on a curious tone; as of a random and illiterate heckling. Thus -they make current an anti-clerical cant as a sort of small-talk. They -will complain of parsons dressing like parsons; as if we should be any -more free if all the police who shadowed or collared us were -plain-clothes detectives. Or they will complain that a sermon cannot be -interrupted, and call a pulpit a coward’s castle; though they do not -call an editor’s office a coward’s castle. It would be unjust both to -journalists and priests; but it would be much truer of journalists. The -clergyman appears in person and could easily be kicked as he came out of -church; the journalist conceals even his name so that nobody can kick -him. They write wild and pointless articles and letters in the press -about why the churches are empty, without even going there to find out -if they are empty, or which of them are empty. Their suggestions are -more vapid and vacant than the most insipid curate in a three-act farce, -and move us to comfort him after the manner of the curate in the Bab -Ballads; ‘Your mind is not so blank as that of Hopley Porter.’ So we may -truly say to the very feeblest cleric: ‘Your mind is not so blank as -that of Indignant Layman or Plain Man or Man in the Street, or any of -your critics in the newspapers; for they have not the most shadowy -notion of what they want themselves, let alone of what you ought to give -them.’ They will suddenly turn round and revile the Church for not -having prevented the War, which they themselves did not want to prevent; -and which nobody had ever professed to be able to prevent, except some -of that very school of progressive and cosmopolitan sceptics who are the -chief enemies of the Church. It was the anti-clerical and agnostic world -that was always prophesying the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_5" id="page_5">{5}</a></span> advent of universal peace; it is that -world that was, or should have been, abashed and confounded by the -advent of universal war. As for the general view that the Church was -discredited by the War—they might as well say that the Ark was -discredited by the Flood. When the world goes wrong, it proves rather -that the Church is right. The Church is justified, not because her -children do not sin, but because they do. But that marks their mood -about the whole religious tradition: they are in a state of reaction -against it. It is well with the boy when he lives on his father’s land; -and well with him again when he is far enough from it to look back on it -and see it as a whole. But these people have got into an intermediate -state, have fallen into an intervening valley from which they can see -neither the heights beyond them nor the heights behind. They cannot get -out of the penumbra of Christian controversy. They cannot be Christians -and they cannot leave off being Anti-Christians. Their whole atmosphere -is the atmosphere of a reaction: sulks, perversity, petty criticism. -They still live in the shadow of the faith and have lost the light of -the faith.</p> - -<p>Now the best relation to our spiritual home is to be near enough to love -it. But the next best is to be far enough away not to hate it. It is the -contention of these pages that while the best judge of Christianity is a -Christian, the next best judge would be something more like a Confucian. -The worst judge of all is the man now most ready with his judgments; the -ill-educated Christian turning gradually into the ill-tempered agnostic, -entangled in the end of a feud of which he never understood the -beginning, blighted with a sort of hereditary boredom with he knows not -what, and already weary of hearing what he has never heard. He does not -judge Christianity calmly as a Confucian would; he does not judge it as -he would judge Confucianism. He cannot by an effort of fancy set the -Catholic<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_6" id="page_6">{6}</a></span> Church thousands of miles away in strange skies of morning and -judge it as impartially as a Chinese pagoda. It is said that the great -St. Francis Xavier, who very nearly succeeded in setting up the Church -there as a tower overtopping all pagodas, failed partly because his -followers were accused by their fellow missionaries of representing the -Twelve Apostles with the garb or attributes of Chinamen. But it would be -far better to see them as Chinamen, and judge them fairly as Chinamen, -than to see them as featureless idols merely made to be battered by -iconoclasts; or rather as cockshies to be pelted by empty-headed -cockneys. It would be better to see the whole thing as a remote Asiatic -cult; the mitres of its bishops as the towering head-dresses of -mysterious bonzes; its pastoral staffs as the sticks twisted like -serpents carried in some Asiatic procession; to see the prayer-book as -fantastic as the prayer-wheel and the Cross as crooked as the Swastika. -Then at least we should not lose our temper as some of the sceptical -critics seem to lose their temper, not to mention their wits. Their -anti-clericalism has become an atmosphere, an atmosphere of negation and -hostility from which they cannot escape. Compared with that, it would be -better to see the whole thing as something belonging to another -continent, or to another planet. It would be more philosophical to stare -indifferently at bonzes than to be perpetually and pointlessly grumbling -at bishops. It would be better to walk past a church as if it were a -pagoda than to stand permanently in the porch, impotent either to go -inside and help or to go outside and forget. For those in whom a mere -reaction has thus become an obsession, I do seriously recommend the -imaginative effort of conceiving the Twelve Apostles as Chinamen. In -other words, I recommend these critics to try to do as much justice to -Christian saints as if they were Pagan sages.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_7" id="page_7">{7}</a></span></p> - -<p>But with this we come to the final and vital point. I shall try to show -in these pages that when we <i>do</i> make this imaginative effort to see the -whole thing from the outside, we find that it really looks like what is -traditionally said about it inside. It is exactly when the boy gets far -enough off to see the giant that he sees that he really is a giant. It -is exactly when we do at last see the Christian Church afar under those -clear and level eastern skies that we see that it is really the Church -of Christ. To put it shortly, the moment we are really impartial about -it we know why people are partial to it. But this second proposition -requires more serious discussion; and I shall here set myself to discuss -it.</p> - -<p>As soon as I had clearly in my mind this conception of something solid -in the solitary and unique character of the divine story, it struck me -that there was exactly the same strange and yet solid character in the -human story that had led up to it; because that human story also had a -root that was divine. I mean that just as the Church seems to grow more -remarkable when it is fairly compared with the common religious life of -mankind, so mankind itself seems to grow more remarkable when we compare -it with the common life of nature. And I have noticed that most modern -history is driven to something like sophistry, first to soften the sharp -transition from animals to men, and then to soften the sharp transition -from heathens to Christians. Now the more we really read in a realistic -spirit of those two transitions the sharper we shall find them to be. It -is because the critics are <i>not</i> detached that they do not see this -detachment; it is because they are not looking at things in a dry light -that they cannot see the difference between black and white. It is -because they are in a particular mood of reaction and revolt that they -have a motive for making out that all the white is dirty grey and the -black not so black as it is painted. I do not say there<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_8" id="page_8">{8}</a></span> are not human -excuses for their revolt; I do not say it is not in some ways -sympathetic; what I say is that it is not in any way scientific. An -iconoclast may be indignant; an iconoclast may be justly indignant; but -an iconoclast is not impartial. And it is stark hypocrisy to pretend -that nine-tenths of the higher critics and scientific evolutionists and -professors of comparative religion are in the least impartial. Why -should they be impartial, what is being impartial, when the whole world -is at war about whether one thing is a devouring superstition or a -divine hope? I do not pretend to be impartial in the sense that the -final act of faith fixes a man’s mind because it satisfies his mind. But -I do profess to be a great deal more impartial than they are; in the -sense that I can tell the story fairly, with some sort of imaginative -justice to all sides; and they cannot. I do profess to be impartial in -the sense that I should be ashamed to talk such nonsense about the Lama -of Thibet as they do about the Pope of Rome, or to have as little -sympathy with Julian the Apostate as they have with the Society of -Jesus. They are not impartial; they never by any chance hold the -historical scales even; and above all they are never impartial upon this -point of evolution and transition. They suggest everywhere the grey -gradations of twilight, because they believe it is the twilight of the -gods. I propose to maintain that whether or no it is the twilight of -gods, it is not the daylight of men.</p> - -<p>I maintain that when brought out into the daylight, these two things -look altogether strange and unique; and that it is only in the false -twilight of an imaginary period of transition that they can be made to -look in the least like anything else. The first of these is the creature -called man, and the second is the man called Christ. I have therefore -divided this book into two parts: the former being a sketch of the main -adventure of the human race<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_9" id="page_9">{9}</a></span> in so far as it remained heathen; and the -second a summary of the real difference that was made by it becoming -Christian. Both motives necessitate a certain method, a method which is -not very easy to manage, and perhaps even less easy to define or defend.</p> - -<p>In order to strike, in the only sane or possible sense, the note of -impartiality, it is necessary to touch the nerve of novelty. I mean that -in one sense we see things fairly when we see them first. That, I may -remark in passing, is why children generally have very little difficulty -about the dogmas of the Church. But the Church, being a highly practical -thing for working and fighting, is necessarily a thing for men and not -merely for children. There must be in it for working purposes a great -deal of tradition, of familiarity, and even of routine. So long as its -fundamentals are sincerely felt, this may even be the saner condition. -But when its fundamentals are doubted, as at present, we must try to -recover the candour and wonder of the child; the unspoilt realism and -objectivity of innocence. Or if we cannot do that, we must try at least -to shake off the cloud of mere custom and see the thing as new, if only -by seeing it as unnatural. Things that may well be familiar so long as -familiarity breeds affection had much better become unfamiliar when -familiarity breeds contempt. For in connection with things so great as -are here considered, whatever our view of them, contempt must be a -mistake. Indeed contempt must be an illusion. We must invoke the most -wild and soaring sort of imagination; the imagination that can see what -is there.</p> - -<p>The only way to suggest the point is by an example of something, indeed -of almost anything, that has been considered beautiful or wonderful. -George Wyndham once told me that he had seen one of the first aeroplanes -rise for the first time, and it was very wonderful; but not so wonderful -as a horse<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_10" id="page_10">{10}</a></span> allowing a man to ride on him. Somebody else has said that a -fine man on a fine horse is the noblest bodily object in the world. Now, -so long as people feel this in the right way, all is well. The first and -best way of appreciating it is to come of people with a tradition of -treating animals properly; of men in the right relation to horses. A boy -who remembers his father who rode a horse, who rode it well and treated -it well, will know that the relation can be satisfactory and will be -satisfied. He will be all the more indignant at the ill-treatment of -horses because he knows how they ought to be treated; but he will see -nothing but what is normal in a man riding on a horse. He will not -listen to the great modern philosopher who explains to him that the -horse ought to be riding on the man. He will not pursue the pessimist -fancy of Swift and say that men must be despised as monkeys, and horses -worshipped as gods. And horse and man together making an image that is -to him human and civilised, it will be easy, as it were, to lift horse -and man together into something heroic or symbolical; like a vision of -St. George in the clouds. The fable of the winged horse will not be -wholly unnatural to him: and he will know why Ariosto set many a -Christian hero in such an airy saddle, and made him the rider of the -sky. For the horse has really been lifted up along with the man in the -wildest fashion in the very word we use when we speak of ‘chivalry.’ The -very name of the horse has been given to the highest mood and moment of -the man; so that we might almost say that the handsomest compliment to a -man is to call him a horse.</p> - -<p>But if a man has got into a mood in which he is <i>not</i> able to feel this -sort of wonder, then his cure must begin right at the other end. We must -now suppose that he has drifted into a dull mood, in which somebody -sitting on a horse means no more than somebody sitting on a chair. The -wonder of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_11" id="page_11">{11}</a></span> which Wyndham spoke, the beauty that made the thing seem an -equestrian statue, the meaning of the more chivalric horseman, may have -become to him merely a convention and a bore. Perhaps they have been -merely a fashion; perhaps they have gone out of fashion; perhaps they -have been talked about too much or talked about in the wrong way; -perhaps it was then difficult to care for horses without the horrible -risk of being horsy. Anyhow, he has got into a condition when he cares -no more for a horse than for a towel-horse. His grandfather’s charge at -Balaclava seems to him as dull and dusty as the album containing such -family portraits. Such a person has not really become enlightened about -the album; on the contrary, he has only become blind with the dust. But -when he has reached <i>that</i> degree of blindness, he will not be able to -look at a horse or a horseman at all until he has seen the whole thing -as a thing entirely unfamiliar and almost unearthly.</p> - -<p>Out of some dark forest under some ancient dawn there must come towards -us, with lumbering yet dancing motions, one of the very queerest of the -prehistoric creatures. We must see for the first time the strangely -small head set on a neck not only longer but thicker than itself, as the -face of a gargoyle is thrust out upon a gutter-spout, the one -disproportionate crest of hair running along the ridge of that heavy -neck like a beard in the wrong place; the feet, each like a solid club -of horn, alone amid the feet of so many cattle; so that the true fear is -to be found in showing not the cloven but the uncloven hoof. Nor is it -mere verbal fancy to see him thus as a unique monster; for in a sense a -monster means what is unique, and he is really unique. But the point is -that when we thus see him as the first man saw him, we begin once more -to have some imaginative sense of what it meant when the first man rode -him. In such a dream he may seem ugly, but he does<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_12" id="page_12">{12}</a></span> not seem -unimpressive; and certainly that two-legged dwarf who could get on top -of him will not seem unimpressive. By a longer and more erratic road we -shall come back to the same marvel of the man and the horse; and the -marvel will be, if possible, even more marvellous. We shall have again a -glimpse of St. George; the more glorious because St. George is not -riding on the horse, but rather riding on the dragon.</p> - -<p>In this example, which I have taken merely because it is an example, it -will be noted that I do not say that the nightmare seen by the first man -of the forest is either more true or more wonderful than the normal mare -of the stable seen by the civilised person who can appreciate what is -normal. Of the two extremes, I think on the whole that the traditional -grasp of truth is the better. But I say that the truth is found at one -or other of these two extremes, and is lost in the intermediate -condition of mere fatigue and forgetfulness of tradition. In other -words, I say it is better to see a horse as a monster than to see it -only as a slow substitute for a motor-car. If we have got into <i>that</i> -state of mind about a horse as something stale, it is far better to be -frightened of a horse because it is a good deal too fresh.</p> - -<p>Now, as it is with the monster that is called a horse, so it is with the -monster that is called a man. Of course the best condition of all, in my -opinion, is always to have regarded man as he is regarded in my -philosophy. He who holds the Christian and Catholic view of human nature -will feel certain that it is a universal and therefore a sane view, and -will be satisfied. But if he has lost the sane vision, he can only get -it back by something very like a mad vision; that is, by seeing man as a -strange animal and realising how strange an animal he is. But just as -seeing the horse as a prehistoric prodigy ultimately led back to, and -not away from, an admiration for the mastery of man, so the <i>really</i> -detached consideration of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_13" id="page_13">{13}</a></span> curious career of man will lead back to, -and not away from, the ancient faith in the dark designs of God. In -other words, it is exactly when we do see how queer the quadruped is -that we praise the man who mounts him; and exactly when we do see how -queer the biped is that we praise the Providence that made him.</p> - -<p>In short, it is the purpose of this introduction to maintain this -thesis: that it is exactly when we do regard man as an animal that we -know he is not an animal. It is precisely when we do try to picture him -as a sort of horse on its hind legs that we suddenly realise that he -must be something as miraculous as the winged horse that towered up into -the clouds of heaven. All roads lead to Rome, all ways lead round again -to the central and civilised philosophy, including this road through -elfland and topsyturvydom. But it may be that it is better never to have -left the land of a reasonable tradition, where men ride lightly upon -horses and are mighty hunters before the Lord.</p> - -<p>So also in the specially Christian case we have to react against the -heavy bias of fatigue. It is almost impossible to make the facts vivid, -because the facts are familiar; and for fallen men it is often true that -familiarity is fatigue. I am convinced that if we could tell the -supernatural story of Christ word for word as of a Chinese hero, call -him the Son of Heaven instead of the Son of God, and trace his rayed -nimbus in the gold thread of Chinese embroideries or the gold lacquer of -Chinese pottery instead of in the gold leaf of our own old Catholic -paintings, there would be a unanimous testimony to the spiritual purity -of the story. We should hear nothing then of the injustice of -substitution or the illogicality of atonement, of the superstitious -exaggeration of the burden of sin or the impossible insolence of an -invasion of the laws of nature. We should admire the chivalry of the -Chinese conception of a god who fell from the sky to fight the dragons -and save the wicked from being<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_14" id="page_14">{14}</a></span> devoured by their own fault and folly. -We should admire the subtlety of the Chinese view of life, which -perceives that all human imperfection is in very truth a crying -imperfection. We should admire the Chinese esoteric and superior wisdom, -which said there are higher cosmic laws than the laws we know; we -believe every common Indian conjurer who chooses to come to us and talk -in the same style. If Christianity were only a new oriental fashion, it -would never be reproached with being an old and oriental faith. I do not -propose in this book to follow the alleged example of St. Francis Xavier -with the opposite imaginative intention, and turn the Twelve Apostles -into Mandarins; not so much to make them look like natives as to make -them look like foreigners. I do not propose to work what I believe would -be a completely successful practical joke; that of telling the whole -story of the Gospel and the whole history of the Church in a setting of -pagodas and pigtails; and noting with malignant humour how much it was -admired as a heathen story in the very quarters where it is condemned as -a Christian story. But I do propose to strike wherever possible this -note of what is new and strange, and for that reason the style even on -so serious a subject may sometimes be deliberately grotesque and -fanciful. I do desire to help the reader to see Christendom from the -outside in the sense of seeing it as a whole, against the background of -other historic things; just as I desire him to see humanity as a whole -against the background of natural things. And I say that in both cases, -when seen thus, they stand out from their background like supernatural -things. They do not fade into the rest with the colours of -impressionism; they stand out from the rest with the colours of -heraldry; as vivid as a red cross on a white shield or a black lion on a -ground of gold. So stands the Red Clay against the green field of -nature, or the White Christ against the red clay of his race.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_15" id="page_15">{15}</a></span></p> - -<p>But in order to see them clearly we have to see them as a whole. We have -to see how they developed as well as how they began; for the most -incredible part of the story is that things which began thus should have -developed thus. Any one who chooses to indulge in mere imagination can -imagine that other things might have happened or other entities evolved. -Any one thinking of what might have happened may conceive a sort of -evolutionary equality; but any one facing what did happen must face an -exception and a prodigy. If there was ever a moment when man was only an -animal, we can if we choose make a fancy picture of his career -transferred to some other animal. An entertaining fantasia might be made -in which elephants built in elephantine architecture, with towers and -turrets like tusks and trunks, cities beyond the scale of any colossus. -A pleasant fable might be conceived in which a cow had developed a -costume, and put on four boots and two pairs of trousers. We could -imagine a Supermonkey more marvellous than any Superman, a quadrumanous -creature carving and painting with his hands and cooking and -carpentering with his feet. But if we are considering what did happen, -we shall certainly decide that man has distanced everything else with a -distance like that of the astronomical spaces and a speed like that of -the still thunderbolt of the light. And in the same fashion, while we -can if we choose see the Church amid a mob of Mithraic or Manichean -superstitions squabbling and killing each other at the end of the -Empire, while we can if we choose imagine the Church killed in the -struggle and some other chance cult taking its place, we shall be the -more surprised (and possibly puzzled) if we meet it two thousand years -afterwards rushing through the ages as the winged thunderbolt of thought -and everlasting enthusiasm; a thing without rival or resemblance; and -still as new as it is old.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_16" id="page_16">{16}</a></span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_17" id="page_17">{17}</a></span> </p> - -<h2><a name="PART_I" id="PART_I"></a>PART I<br /><br /> -ON THE CREATURE CALLED MAN</h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_18" id="page_18">{18}</a></span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_19" id="page_19">{19}</a></span> </p> - -<h3><a name="CHAPTER_I-a" id="CHAPTER_I-a"></a>CHAPTER I<br /><br /> -THE MAN IN THE CAVE</h3> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">Far</span> away in some strange constellation in skies infinitely remote, there -is a small star, which astronomers may some day discover. At least I -could never observe in the faces or demeanour of most astronomers or men -of science any evidence that they had discovered it; though as a matter -of fact they were walking about on it all the time. It is a star that -brings forth out of itself very strange plants and very strange animals; -and none stranger than the men of science. That at least is the way in -which I should begin a history of the world if I had to follow the -scientific custom of beginning with an account of the astronomical -universe. I should try to see even this earth from the outside, not by -the hackneyed insistence of its relative position to the sun, but by -some imaginative effort to conceive its remote position for the -dehumanised spectator. Only I do not believe in being dehumanised in -order to study humanity. I do not believe in dwelling upon the distances -that are supposed to dwarf the world; I think there is even something a -trifle vulgar about this idea of trying to rebuke spirit by size. And as -the first idea is not feasible, that of making the earth a strange -planet so as to make it significant, I will not stoop to the other trick -of making it a small planet in order to make it insignificant. I would -rather insist that we do not even know that it is a planet at all, in -the sense in which we know that it is a place; and a very extraordinary -place too. That is the note which I wish to strike from the first, if -not<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_20" id="page_20">{20}</a></span> in the astronomical, then in some more familiar fashion.</p> - -<p>One of my first journalistic adventures, or misadventures, concerned a -comment on Grant Allen, who had written a book about the Evolution of -the Idea of God. I happened to remark that it would be much more -interesting if God wrote a book about the evolution of the idea of Grant -Allen. And I remember that the editor objected to my remark on the -ground that it was blasphemous; which naturally amused me not a little. -For the joke of it was, of course, that it never occurred to him to -notice the title of the book itself, which really was blasphemous; for -it was, when translated into English, ‘I will show you how this -nonsensical notion that there is a God grew up among men.’ My remark was -strictly pious and proper; confessing the divine purpose even in its -most seemingly dark or meaningless manifestations. In that hour I -learned many things, including the fact that there is something purely -acoustic in much of that agnostic sort of reverence. The editor had not -seen the point, because in the title of the book the long word came at -the beginning and the short word at the end; whereas in my comment the -short word came at the beginning and gave him a sort of shock. I have -noticed that if you put a word like God into the same sentence with a -word like dog, these abrupt and angular words affect people like -pistol-shots. Whether you say that God made the dog or the dog made God -does not seem to matter; that is only one of the sterile disputations of -the too subtle theologians. But so long as you begin with a long word -like evolution the rest will roll harmlessly past; very probably the -editor had not read the whole of the title, for it is rather a long -title and he was rather a busy man.</p> - -<p>But this little incident has always lingered in my mind as a sort of -parable. Most modern histories of mankind begin with the word evolution, -and with a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_21" id="page_21">{21}</a></span> rather wordy exposition of evolution, for much the same -reason that operated in this case. There is something slow and soothing -and gradual about the word and even about the idea. As a matter of fact, -it is not, touching these primary things, a very practical word or a -very profitable idea. Nobody can imagine how nothing could turn into -something. Nobody can get an inch nearer to it by explaining how -something could turn into something else. It is really far more logical -to start by saying ‘In the beginning God created heaven and earth’ even -if you only mean ‘In the beginning some unthinkable power began some -unthinkable process.’ For God is by its nature a name of mystery, and -nobody ever supposed that man could imagine how a world was created any -more than he could create one. But evolution really is mistaken for -explanation. It has the fatal quality of leaving on many minds the -impression that they do understand it and everything else; just as many -of them live under a sort of illusion that they have read the <i>Origin of -Species</i>.</p> - -<p>But this notion of something smooth and slow, like the ascent of a -slope, is a great part of the illusion. It is an illogicality as well as -an illusion; for slowness has really nothing to do with the question. An -event is not any more intrinsically intelligible or unintelligible -because of the pace at which it moves. For a man who does not believe in -a miracle, a slow miracle would be just as incredible as a swift one. -The Greek witch may have turned sailors to swine with a stroke of the -wand. But to see a naval gentleman of our acquaintance looking a little -more like a pig every day, till he ended with four trotters and a curly -tail, would not be any more soothing. It might be rather more creepy and -uncanny. The medieval wizard may have flown through the air from the top -of a tower; but to see an old gentleman walking through the air, in a -leisurely and lounging manner, would still seem to call for some -explanation.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_22" id="page_22">{22}</a></span> Yet there runs through all the rationalistic treatment of -history this curious and confused idea that difficulty is avoided, or -even mystery eliminated, by dwelling on mere delay or on something -dilatory in the processes of things. There will be something to be said -upon particular examples elsewhere; the question here is the false -atmosphere of facility and ease given by the mere suggestion of going -slow; the sort of comfort that might be given to a nervous old woman -travelling for the first time in a motor-car.</p> - -<p>Mr. H. G. Wells has confessed to being a prophet; and in this matter he -was a prophet at his own expense. It is curious that his first -fairy-tale was a complete answer to his last book of history. The Time -Machine destroyed in advance all comfortable conclusions founded on the -mere relativity of time. In that sublime nightmare the hero saw trees -shoot up like green rockets, and vegetation spread visibly like a green -conflagration, or the sun shoot across the sky from east to west with -the swiftness of a meteor. Yet in his sense these things were quite as -natural when they went swiftly; and in our sense they are quite as -supernatural when they go slowly. The ultimate question is why they go -at all; and anybody who really understands that question will know that -it always has been and always will be a religious question; or at any -rate a philosophical or metaphysical question. And most certainly he -will not think the question answered by some substitution of gradual for -abrupt change; or, in other words, by a merely relative question of the -same story being spun out or rattled rapidly through, as can be done -with any story at a cinema by turning a handle.</p> - -<p>Now what is needed for these problems of primitive existence is -something more like a primitive spirit. In calling up this vision of the -first things, I would ask the reader to make with me a sort of -experiment in simplicity. And by simplicity I do not mean stupidity, but -rather the sort of clarity that sees<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_23" id="page_23">{23}</a></span> things like life rather than words -like evolution. For this purpose it would really be better to turn the -handle of the Time Machine a little more quickly and see the grass -growing and the trees springing up into the sky, if that experiment -could contract and concentrate and make vivid the upshot of the whole -affair. What we know, in a sense in which we know nothing else, is that -the trees and the grass did grow and that a number of other -extraordinary things do in fact happen; that queer creatures support -themselves in the empty air by beating it with fans of various fantastic -shapes; that other queer creatures steer themselves about alive under a -load of mighty waters; that other queer creatures walk about on four -legs, and that the queerest creature of all walks about on two. These -are things and not theories; and compared with them evolution and the -atom and even the solar system are merely theories. The matter here is -one of history and not of philosophy; so that it need only be noted that -no philosopher denies that a mystery still attaches to the two great -transitions: the origin of the universe itself and the origin of the -principle of life itself. Most philosophers have the enlightenment to -add that a third mystery attaches to the origin of man himself. In other -words, a third bridge was built across a third abyss of the unthinkable -when there came into the world what we call reason and what we call -will. Man is not merely an evolution but rather a revolution. That he -has a backbone or other parts upon a similar pattern to birds and fishes -is an obvious fact, whatever be the meaning of the fact. But if we -attempt to regard him, as it were, as a quadruped standing on his hind -legs, we shall find what follows far more fantastic and subversive than -if he were standing on his head.</p> - -<p>I will take one example to serve for an introduction to the story of -man. It illustrates what I mean by saying that a certain childish -directness is needed to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_24" id="page_24">{24}</a></span> see the truth about the childhood of the world. -It illustrates what I mean by saying that a mixture of popular science -and journalistic jargon has confused the facts about the first things, -so that we cannot see which of them really comes first. It illustrates, -though only in one convenient illustration, all that I mean by the -necessity of seeing the sharp differences that give its shape to -history, instead of being submerged in all these generalisations about -slowness and sameness. For we do indeed require, in Mr. Wells’s phrase, -an outline of history. But we may venture to say, in Mr. Mantalini’s -phrase, that this evolutionary history has no outline or is a demd -outline. But, above all, it illustrates what I mean by saying that the -more we really look at man as an animal, the less he will look like one.</p> - -<p>To-day all our novels and newspapers will be found swarming with -numberless allusions to a popular character called a Cave-Man. He seems -to be quite familiar to us, not only as a public character but as a -private character. His psychology is seriously taken into account in -psychological fiction and psychological medicine. So far as I can -understand, his chief occupation in life was knocking his wife about, or -treating women in general with what is, I believe, known in the world of -the film as ‘rough stuff.’ I have never happened to come upon the -evidence for this idea; and I do not know on what primitive diaries or -prehistoric divorce-reports it is founded. Nor, as I have explained -elsewhere, have I ever been able to see the probability of it, even -considered a priori. We are always told without any explanation or -authority that primitive man waved a club and knocked the woman down -before he carried her off. But on every animal analogy, it would seem an -almost morbid modesty and reluctance, on the part of the lady, always to -insist on being knocked down before consenting to be carried off. And I -repeat that I can never comprehend why,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_25" id="page_25">{25}</a></span> when the male was so very rude, -the female should have been so very refined. The cave-man may have been -a brute, but there is no reason why he should have been more brutal than -the brutes. And the loves of the giraffes and the river romances of the -hippopotami are effected without any of this preliminary fracas or -shindy. The cave-man may have been no better than the cave-bear; but the -child she-bear, so famous in hymnology, is not trained with any such -bias for spinsterhood. In short, these details of the domestic life of -the cave puzzle me upon either the evolutionary or the static -hypothesis; and in any case I should like to look into the evidence for -them; but unfortunately I have never been able to find it. But the -curious thing is this: that while ten thousand tongues of more or less -scientific or literary gossip seemed to be talking at once about this -unfortunate fellow, under the title of the cave-man, the one connection -in which it is really relevant and sensible to talk about him as the -cave-man has been comparatively neglected. People have used this loose -term in twenty loose ways; but they have never even looked at their own -term for what could really be learned from it.</p> - -<p>In fact, people have been interested in everything about the cave-man -except what he did in the cave. Now there does happen to be some real -evidence of what he did in the cave. It is little enough, like all the -prehistoric evidence, but it is concerned with the real cave-man and his -cave and not the literary cave-man and his club. And it will be valuable -to our sense of reality to consider quite simply what that real evidence -is, and not to go beyond it. What was found in the cave was not the -club, the horrible gory club notched with the number of women it had -knocked on the head. The cave was not a Bluebeard’s Chamber filled with -the skeletons of slaughtered wives; it was not filled with female skulls -all arranged in rows and all cracked like eggs. It was something<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_26" id="page_26">{26}</a></span> quite -unconnected, one way or the other, with all the modern phrases and -philosophical implications and literary rumours which confuse the whole -question for us. And if we wish to see as it really is this authentic -glimpse of the morning of the world, it will be far better to conceive -even the story of its discovery as some such legend of the land of -morning. It would be far better to tell the tale of what was really -found as simply as the tale of heroes finding the Golden Fleece or the -Gardens of the Hesperides, if we could so escape from a fog of -controversial theories into the clear colours and clean-cut outlines of -such a dawn. The old epic poets at least knew how to tell a story, -possibly a tall story but never a twisted story, never a story tortured -out of its own shape to fit theories and philosophies invented centuries -afterwards. It would be well if modern investigators could describe -their discoveries in the bald narrative style of the earliest -travellers, and without any of these long allusive words that are full -of irrelevant implication and suggestion. Then we might realise exactly -what we do know about the cave-man, or at any rate about the cave.</p> - -<p>A priest and a boy entered some time ago a hollow in the hills and -passed into a sort of subterranean tunnel that led into a labyrinth of -such sealed and secret corridors of rock. They crawled through cracks -that seemed almost impassable, they crept through tunnels that might -have been made for moles, they dropped into holes as hopeless as wells, -they seemed to be burying themselves alive seven times over beyond the -hope of resurrection. This is but the commonplace of all such courageous -exploration; but what is needed here is some one who shall put such -stories in the primary light, in which they are not commonplace. There -is, for instance, something strangely symbolic in the accident that the -first intruders into that sunken world were a priest and a boy, the -types of the antiquity and of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_27" id="page_27">{27}</a></span> youth of the world. But here I am -even more concerned with the symbolism of the boy than with that of the -priest. Nobody who remembers boyhood needs to be told what it might be -to a boy to enter like Peter Pan under a roof of the roots of all the -trees and go deeper and deeper, till he reach what William Morris called -the very roots of the mountains. Suppose somebody, with that simple and -unspoilt realism that is a part of innocence, to pursue that journey to -its end, not for the sake of what he could deduce or demonstrate in some -dusty magazine controversy, but simply for the sake of what he could -see. What he did see at last was a cavern so far from the light of day -that it might have been the legendary Domdaniel cavern that was under -the floor of the sea. This secret chamber of rock, when illuminated -after its long night of unnumbered ages, revealed on its walls large and -sprawling outlines diversified with coloured earths; and when they -followed the lines of them they recognised, across that vast and void of -ages, the movement and the gesture of a man’s hand. They were drawings -or paintings of animals; and they were drawn or painted not only by a -man but by an artist. Under whatever archaic limitations, they showed -that love of the long sweeping or the long wavering line which any man -who has ever drawn or tried to draw will recognise; and about which no -artist will allow himself to be contradicted by any scientist. They -showed the experimental and adventurous spirit of the artist, the spirit -that does not avoid but attempt difficult things; as where the -draughtsman had represented the action of the stag when he swings his -head clean round and noses towards his tail, an action familiar enough -in the horse. But there are many modern animal-painters who would set -themselves something of a task in rendering it truly. In this and twenty -other details it is clear that the artist had watched animals with a -certain interest and presumably a certain pleasure.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_28" id="page_28">{28}</a></span> In that sense it -would seem that he was not only an artist but a naturalist; the sort of -naturalist who is really natural.</p> - -<p>Now it is needless to note, except in passing, that there is nothing -whatever in the atmosphere of that cave to suggest the bleak and -pessimistic atmosphere of that journalistic cave of the winds, that -blows and bellows about us with countless echoes concerning the -cave-man. So far as any human character can be hinted at by such traces -of the past, that human character is quite human and even humane. It is -certainly not the ideal of an inhuman character, like the abstraction -invoked in popular science. When novelists and educationists and -psychologists of all sorts talk about the cave-man, they never conceive -him in connection with anything that is really in the cave. When the -realist of the sex novel writes, ‘Red sparks danced in Dagmar -Doubledick’s brain; he felt the spirit of the cave-man rising within -him,’ the novelist’s readers would be very much disappointed if Dagmar -only went off and drew large pictures of cows on the drawing-room wall. -When the psychoanalyst writes to a patient, ‘The submerged instincts of -the cave-man are doubtless prompting you to gratify a violent impulse,’ -he does not refer to the impulse to paint in water-colours; or to make -conscientious studies of how cattle swing their heads when they graze. -Yet we do know for a fact that the cave-man did these mild and innocent -things; and we have not the most minute speck of evidence that he did -any of the violent and ferocious things. In other words, the cave-man as -commonly presented to us is simply a myth or rather a muddle; for a myth -has at least an imaginative outline of truth. The whole of the current -way of talking is simply a confusion and a misunderstanding, founded on -no sort of scientific evidence and valued only as an excuse for a very -modern mood of anarchy. If any gentleman wants to knock a woman about, -he can<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_29" id="page_29">{29}</a></span> surely be a cad without taking away the character of the -cave-man, about whom we know next to nothing except what we can gather -from a few harmless and pleasing pictures on a wall.</p> - -<p>But this is not the point about the pictures or the particular moral -here to be drawn from them. That moral is something much larger and -simpler, so large and simple that when it is first stated it will sound -childish. And indeed it is in the highest sense childish; and that is -why I have in this apologue in some sense seen it through the eyes of a -child. It is the biggest of all the facts really facing the boy in the -cavern; and is perhaps too big to be seen. If the boy was one of the -flock of the priest, it may be presumed that he had been trained in a -certain quality of common sense; that common sense that often comes to -us in the form of tradition. In that case he would simply recognise the -primitive man’s work as the work of a man, interesting but in no way -incredible in being primitive. He would see what was there to see; and -he would not be tempted into seeing what was not there, by any -evolutionary excitement or fashionable speculation. If he had heard of -such things he would admit, of course, that the speculations might be -true and were not incompatible with the facts that were true. The artist -may have had another side to his character besides that which he has -alone left on record in his works of art. The primitive man may have -taken a pleasure in beating women as well as in drawing animals; all we -can say is that the drawings record the one but not the other. It may be -true that when the cave-man’s finished jumping on his mother, or his -wife as the case may be, he loves to hear the little brook a-gurgling, -and also to watch the deer as they come down to drink at the brook. -These things are not impossible, but they are irrelevant. The common -sense of the child could confine itself to learning from the facts what -the facts have to teach; and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_30" id="page_30">{30}</a></span> pictures in the cave are very nearly -all the facts there are. So far as that evidence goes, the child would -be justified in assuming that a man had represented animals with rock -and red ochre for the same reason as he himself was in the habit of -trying to represent animals with charcoal and red chalk. The man had -drawn a stag just as the child had drawn a horse; because it was fun. -The man had drawn a stag with his head turned as the child had drawn a -pig with his eyes shut; because it was difficult. The child and the man, -being both human, would be united by the brotherhood of men; and the -brotherhood of men is even nobler when it bridges the abyss of ages than -when it bridges only the chasm of class. But anyhow he would see no -evidence of the cave-man of crude evolutionism; because there is none to -be seen. If somebody told him that the pictures had all been drawn by -St. Francis of Assisi out of pure and saintly love of animals, there -would be nothing in the cave to contradict it.</p> - -<p>Indeed I once knew a lady who half-humorously suggested that the cave -was a crèche, in which the babies were put to be specially safe, and -that coloured animals were drawn on the walls to amuse them; very much -as diagrams of elephants and giraffes adorn a modern infant school. And -though this was but a jest, it does draw attention to some of the other -assumptions that we make only too readily. The pictures do not prove -even that the cave-men lived in caves, any more than the discovery of a -wine-cellar in Balham (long after that suburb had been destroyed by -human or divine wrath) would prove that the Victorian middle classes -lived entirely underground. The cave might have had a special purpose -like the cellar; it might have been a religious shrine or a refuge in -war or the meeting-place of a secret society or all sorts of things. But -it is quite true that its artistic decoration has much more of the -atmosphere of a nursery than of any of these night<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_31" id="page_31">{31}</a></span>mares of anarchical -fury and fear. I have conceived a child as standing in the cave; and it -is easy to conceive any child, modern or immeasurably remote, as making -a living gesture as if to pat the painted beasts upon the wall. In that -gesture there is a foreshadowing, as we shall see later, of another -cavern and another child.</p> - -<p>But suppose the boy had not been taught by a priest but by a professor, -by one of the professors who simplify the relation of men and beasts to -a mere evolutionary variation. Suppose the boy saw himself, with the -same simplicity and sincerity, as a mere Mowgli running with the pack of -nature and roughly indistinguishable from the rest save by a relative -and recent variation. What would be for him the simplest lesson of that -strange stone picture-book? After all, it would come back to this; that -he had dug very deep and found the place where a man had drawn a picture -of a reindeer. But he would dig a good deal deeper before he found a -place where a reindeer had drawn a picture of a man. That sounds like a -truism, but in this connection it is really a very tremendous truth. He -might descend to depths unthinkable, he might sink into sunken -continents as strange as remote stars, he might find himself in the -inside of the world as far from men as the other side of the moon; he -might see in those cold chasms or colossal terraces of stone, traced in -the faint hieroglyphic of the fossil, the ruins of lost dynasties of -biological life, rather like the ruins of successive creations and -separate universes than the stages in the story of one. He would find -the trail of monsters blindly developing in directions outside all our -common imagery of fish and bird; groping and grasping and touching life -with every extravagant elongation of horn and tongue and tentacle; -growing a forest of fantastic caricatures of the claw and the fin and -the finger. But nowhere would he find one finger that had traced one -significant line upon the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_32" id="page_32">{32}</a></span> sand; nowhere one claw that had even begun to -scratch the faint suggestion of a form. To all appearance, the thing -would be as unthinkable in all those countless cosmic variations of -forgotten aeons as it would be in the beasts and birds before our eyes. -The child would no more expect to see it than to see the cat scratch on -the wall a vindictive caricature of the dog. The childish common sense -would keep the most evolutionary child from expecting to see anything -like that; yet in the traces of the rude and recently evolved ancestors -of humanity he would have seen exactly that. It must surely strike him -as strange that men so remote from him should be so near, and that -beasts so near to him should be so remote. To his simplicity it must -seem at least odd that he could not find any trace of the beginning of -any arts among any animals. That is the simplest lesson to learn in the -cavern of the coloured pictures; only it is too simple to be learnt. It -is the simple truth that man does differ from the brutes in kind and not -in degree; and the proof of it is here; that it sounds like a truism to -say that the most primitive man drew a picture of a monkey, and that it -sounds like a joke to say that the most intelligent monkey drew a -picture of a man. Something of division and disproportion has appeared; -and it is unique. Art is the signature of man.</p> - -<p>That is the sort of simple truth with which a story of the beginnings -ought really to begin. The evolutionist stands staring in the painted -cavern at the things that are too large to be seen and too simple to be -understood. He tries to deduce all sorts of other indirect and doubtful -things from the details of the pictures, because he cannot see the -primary significance of the whole; thin and theoretical deductions about -the absence of religion or the presence of superstition; about tribal -government and hunting and human sacrifice and heaven knows what. In the -next chapter I shall try to trace in a little more detail<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_33" id="page_33">{33}</a></span> the much -disputed question about these prehistoric origins of human ideas and -especially of the religious idea. Here I am only taking this one case of -the cave as a sort of symbol of the simpler sort of truth with which the -story ought to start. When all is said, the main fact that the record of -the reindeer men attests, along with all other records, is that the -reindeer man could draw and the reindeer could not. If the reindeer man -was as much an animal as the reindeer, it was all the more extraordinary -that he could do what all other animals could not. If he was an ordinary -product of biological growth, like any other beast or bird, then it is -all the more extraordinary that he was not in the least like any other -beast or bird. He seems rather more supernatural as a natural product -than as a supernatural one.</p> - -<p>But I have begun this story in the cave, like the cave of the -speculations of Plato, because it is a sort of model of the mistake of -merely evolutionary introductions and prefaces. It is useless to begin -by saying that everything was slow and smooth and a mere matter of -development and degree. For in a plain matter like the pictures there is -in fact not a trace of any such development or degree. Monkeys did not -begin pictures and men finish them; Pithecanthropus did not draw a -reindeer badly and Homo Sapiens draw it well. The higher animals did not -draw better and better portraits; the dog did not paint better in his -best period than in his early bad manner as a jackal; the wild horse was -not an Impressionist and the race-horse a Post-Impressionist. All we can -say of this notion of reproducing things in shadow or representative -shape is that it exists nowhere in nature except in man; and that we -cannot even talk about it without treating man as something separate -from nature. In other words, every sane sort of history must begin with -man as man, a thing standing absolute and alone. How he came there, or -indeed how anything else came there,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_34" id="page_34">{34}</a></span> is a thing for theologians and -philosophers and scientists and not for historians. But an excellent -test case of this isolation and mystery is the matter of the impulse of -art. This creature was truly different from all other creatures; because -he was a creator as well as a creature. Nothing in that sense could be -made in any other image but the image of man. But the truth is so true -that, even in the absence of any religious belief, it must be assumed in -the form of some moral or metaphysical principle. In the next chapter we -shall see how this principle applies to all the historical hypotheses -and evolutionary ethics now in fashion; to the origins of tribal -government or mythological belief. But the clearest and most convenient -example to start with is this popular one of what the cave-man really -did in his cave. It means that somehow or other a new thing had appeared -in the cavernous night of nature; a mind that is like a mirror. It is -like a mirror because it is truly a thing of reflection. It is like a -mirror because in it alone all the other shapes can be seen like shining -shadows in a vision. Above all, it is like a mirror because it is the -only thing of its kind. Other things may resemble it or resemble each -other in various ways; other things may excel it or excel each other in -various ways; just as in the furniture of a room a table may be round -like a mirror or a cupboard may be larger than a mirror. But the mirror -is the only thing that can contain them all. Man is the microcosm; man -is the measure of all things; man is the image of God. These are the -only real lessons to be learnt in the cave, and it is time to leave it -for the open road.</p> - -<p>It will be well in this place, however, to sum up once and for all what -is meant by saying that man is at once the exception to everything and -the mirror and the measure of all things. But to see man as he is, it is -necessary once more to keep close to that simplicity that can clear -itself of accumulated clouds<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_35" id="page_35">{35}</a></span> of sophistry. The simplest truth about man -is that he is a very strange being; almost in the sense of being a -stranger on the earth. In all sobriety, he has much more of the external -appearance of one bringing alien habits from another land than of a mere -growth of this one. He has an unfair advantage and an unfair -disadvantage. He cannot sleep in his own skin; he cannot trust his own -instincts. He is at once a creator moving miraculous hands and fingers -and a kind of cripple. He is wrapped in artificial bandages called -clothes; he is propped on artificial crutches called furniture. His mind -has the same doubtful liberties and the same wild limitations. Alone -among the animals, he is shaken with the beautiful madness called -laughter; as if he had caught sight of some secret in the very shape of -the universe hidden from the universe itself. Alone among the animals he -feels the need of averting his thoughts from the root realities of his -own bodily being; of hiding them as in the presence of some higher -possibility which creates the mystery of shame. Whether we praise these -things as natural to man or abuse them as artificial in nature, they -remain in the same sense unique. This is realised by the whole popular -instinct called religion, until disturbed by pedants, especially the -laborious pedants of the Simple Life. The most sophistical of all -sophists are Gymnosophists.</p> - -<p>It is not natural to see man as a natural product. It is not common -sense to call man a common object of the country or the seashore. It is -not seeing straight to see him as an animal. It is not sane. It sins -against the light; against that broad daylight of proportion which is -the principle of all reality. It is reached by stretching a point, by -making out a case, by artificially selecting a certain light and shade, -by bringing into prominence the lesser or lower things which may happen -to be similar. The solid thing standing in the sunlight, the thing we -can walk round<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_36" id="page_36">{36}</a></span> and see from all sides, is quite different. It is also -quite extraordinary; and the more sides we see of it the more -extraordinary it seems. It is emphatically not a thing that follows or -flows naturally from anything else. If we imagine that an inhuman or -impersonal intelligence could have felt from the first the general -nature of the non-human world sufficiently to see that things would -evolve in whatever way they did evolve, there would have been nothing -whatever in all that natural world to prepare such a mind for such an -unnatural novelty. To such a mind, man would most certainly not have -seemed something like one herd out of a hundred herds finding richer -pasture; or one swallow out of a hundred swallows making a summer under -a strange sky. It would not be in the same scale and scarcely in the -same dimension. We might as truly say that it would not be in the same -universe. It would be more like seeing one cow out of a hundred cows -suddenly jump over the moon or one pig out of a hundred pigs grow wings -in a flash and fly. It would not be a question of the cattle finding -their own grazing-ground but of their building their own cattle-sheds, -not a question of one swallow making a summer but of his making a -summer-house. For the very fact that birds do build nests is one of -those similarities that sharpen the startling difference. The very fact -that a bird can get as far as building a nest, and cannot get any -farther, proves that he has not a mind as man has a mind; it proves it -more completely than if he built nothing at all. If he built nothing at -all, he might possibly be a philosopher of the Quietist or Buddhistic -school, indifferent to all but the mind within. But when he builds as he -does build and is satisfied and sings aloud with satisfaction, then we -know there is really an invisible veil like a pane of glass between him -and us, like the window on which a bird will beat in vain. But suppose -our abstract onlooker saw one of the birds<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_37" id="page_37">{37}</a></span> begin to build as men build. -Suppose in an incredibly short space of time there were seven styles of -architecture for one style of nest. Suppose the bird carefully selected -forked twigs and pointed leaves to express the piercing piety of Gothic, -but turned to broad foliage and black mud when he sought in a darker -mood to call up the heavy columns of Bel and Ashtaroth; making his nest -indeed one of the hanging gardens of Babylon. Suppose the bird made -little clay statues of birds celebrated in letters or politics and stuck -them up in front of the nest. Suppose that one bird out of a thousand -birds began to do one of the thousand things that man had already done -even in the morning of the world; and we can be quite certain that the -onlooker would not regard such a bird as a mere evolutionary variety of -the other birds; he would regard it as a very fearful wild-fowl indeed; -possibly as a bird of ill-omen, certainly as an omen. That bird would -tell the augurs, not of something that would happen, but of something -that had happened. That something would be the appearance of a mind with -a new dimension of depth; a mind like that of man. If there be no God, -no other mind could conceivably have foreseen it.</p> - -<p>Now, as a matter of fact, there is not a shadow of evidence that <i>this</i> -thing was evolved at all. There is not a particle of proof that <i>this</i> -transition came slowly, or even that it came naturally. In a strictly -scientific sense, we simply know nothing whatever about how it grew, or -whether it grew, or what it is. There may be a broken trail of stones -and bones faintly suggesting the development of the human body. There is -nothing even faintly suggesting such a development of this human mind. -It was not and it was; we know not in what instant or in what infinity -of years. Something happened; and it has all the appearance of a -transaction outside time. It has therefore nothing to do with history in -the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_38" id="page_38">{38}</a></span> ordinary sense. The historian must take it or something like it for -granted; it is not his business as a historian to explain it. But if he -cannot explain it as a historian, he will not explain it as a biologist. -In neither case is there any disgrace to him in accepting it without -explaining it; for it is a reality, and history and biology deal with -realities. He is quite justified in calmly confronting the pig with -wings and the cow that jumped over the moon, merely because they have -happened. He can reasonably accept man as a freak, because he accepts -man as a fact. He can be perfectly comfortable in a crazy and -disconnected world, or in a world that can produce such a crazy and -disconnected thing. For reality is a thing in which we can all repose, -even if it hardly seems related to anything else. The thing is there; -and that is enough for most of us. But if we do indeed want to know how -it can conceivably have come there, if we do indeed wish to see it -related realistically to other things, if we do insist on seeing it -evolved before our very eyes from an environment nearer to its own -nature, then assuredly it is to very different things that we must go. -We must stir very strange memories and return to very simple dreams if -we desire some origin that can make man other than a monster. We shall -have discovered very different causes before he becomes a creature of -causation; and invoked other authority to turn him into something -reasonable, or even into anything probable. That way lies all that is at -once awful and familiar and forgotten, with dreadful faces thronged and -fiery arms. We can accept man as a fact, if we are content with an -unexplained fact. We can accept him as an animal, if we can live with a -fabulous animal. But if we must needs have sequence and necessity, then -indeed we must provide a prelude and crescendo of mounting miracles, -that ushered in with unthinkable thunders in all the seven heavens of -another order, a man may be an ordinary thing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_39" id="page_39">{39}</a></span></p> - -<h3><a name="CHAPTER_II-a" id="CHAPTER_II-a"></a>CHAPTER II<br /><br /> -PROFESSORS AND PREHISTORIC MEN</h3> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">Science</span> is weak about these prehistoric things in a way that has hardly -been noticed. The science whose modern marvels we all admire succeeds by -incessantly adding to its data. In all practical inventions, in most -natural discoveries, it can always increase evidence by experiment. But -it cannot experiment in making men; or even in watching to see what the -first men make. An inventor can advance step by step in the construction -of an aeroplane, even if he is only experimenting with sticks and scraps -of metal in his own back-yard. But he cannot watch the Missing Link -evolving in his own back-yard. If he has made a mistake in his -calculations, the aeroplane will correct it by crashing to the ground. -But if he has made a mistake about the arboreal habitat of his ancestor, -he cannot see his arboreal ancestor falling off the tree. He cannot keep -a cave-man like a cat in the back-yard and watch him to see whether he -does really practise cannibalism or carry off his mate on the principles -of marriage by capture. He cannot keep a tribe of primitive men like a -pack of hounds and notice how far they are influenced by the herd -instinct. If he sees a particular bird behave in a particular way, he -can get other birds and see if they behave in that way; but if he finds -a skull, or the scrap of a skull, in the hollow of a hill, he cannot -multiply it into a vision of the valley of dry bones. In dealing with a -past that has almost entirely perished, he can only go by evidence and -not by experiment. And there is hardly enough evidence<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_40" id="page_40">{40}</a></span> to be even -evidential. Thus while most science moves in a sort of curve, being -constantly corrected by new evidence, this science flies off into space -in a straight line uncorrected by anything. But the habit of forming -conclusions, as they can really be formed in more fruitful fields, is so -fixed in the scientific mind that it cannot resist talking like this. It -talks about the idea suggested by one scrap of bone as if it were -something like the aeroplane which is constructed at last out of whole -scrap-heaps of scraps of metal. The trouble with the professor of the -prehistoric is that he cannot scrap his scrap. The marvellous and -triumphant aeroplane is made out of a hundred mistakes. The student of -origins can only make one mistake and stick to it.</p> - -<p>We talk very truly of the patience of science; but in this department it -would be truer to talk of the impatience of science. Owing to the -difficulty above described, the theorist is in far too much of a hurry. -We have a series of hypotheses so hasty that they may well be called -fancies, and cannot in any case be further corrected by facts. The most -empirical anthropologist is here as limited as an antiquary. He can only -cling to a fragment of the past and has no way of increasing it for the -future. He can only clutch his fragment of fact, almost as the primitive -man clutched his fragment of flint. And indeed he does deal with it in -much the same way and for much the same reason. It is his tool and his -only tool. It is his weapon and his only weapon. He often wields it with -a fanaticism far in excess of anything shown by men of science when they -can collect more facts from experience and even add new facts by -experiment. Sometimes the professor with his bone becomes almost as -dangerous as a dog with his bone. And the dog at least does not deduce a -theory from it, proving that mankind is going to the dogs—or that it -came from them.</p> - -<p>For instance, I have pointed out the difficulty of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_41" id="page_41">{41}</a></span> keeping a monkey and -watching it evolve into a man. Experimental evidence of such an -evolution being impossible, the professor is not content to say (as most -of us would be ready to say) that such an evolution is likely enough -anyhow. He produces his little bone, or little collection of bones, and -deduces the most marvellous things from it. He found in Java a part of a -skull, seeming by its contour to be smaller than the human. Somewhere -near it he found an upright thigh-bone, and in the same scattered -fashion some teeth that were not human. If they all form part of one -creature, which is doubtful, our conception of the creature would be -almost equally doubtful. But the effect on popular science was to -produce a complete and even complex figure, finished down to the last -details of hair and habits. He was given a name as if he were an -ordinary historical character. People talked of Pithecanthropus as of -Pitt or Fox or Napoleon. Popular histories published portraits of him -like the portraits of Charles the First and George the Fourth. A -detailed drawing was reproduced, carefully shaded, to show that the very -hairs of his head were all numbered. No uninformed person looking at its -carefully lined face and wistful eyes would imagine for a moment that -this was the portrait of a thigh-bone; or of a few teeth and a fragment -of a cranium. In the same way people talked about him as if he were an -individual whose influence and character were familiar to us all. I have -just read a story in a magazine about Java, and how modern white -inhabitants of that island are prevailed on to misbehave themselves by -the personal influence of poor old Pithecanthropus. That the modern -inhabitants of Java misbehave themselves I can very readily believe; but -I do not imagine that they need any encouragement from the discovery of -a few highly doubtful bones. Anyhow, those bones are far too few and -fragmentary and dubious to fill up the whole of the vast void that<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_42" id="page_42">{42}</a></span> does -in reason and in reality lie between man and his bestial ancestors, if -they were his ancestors. On the assumption of that evolutionary -connection (a connection which I am not in the least concerned to deny), -the really arresting and remarkable fact is the comparative absence of -any such remains recording that connection at that point. The sincerity -of Darwin really admitted this; and that is how we came to use such a -term as the Missing Link. But the dogmatism of Darwinians has been too -strong for the agnosticism of Darwin; and men have insensibly fallen -into turning this entirely negative term into a positive image. They -talk of searching for the habits and habitat of the Missing Link; as if -one were to talk of being on friendly terms with the gap in a narrative -or the hole in an argument, of taking a walk with a <i>non-sequitur</i> or -dining with an undistributed middle.</p> - -<p>In this sketch, therefore, of man in his relation to certain religious -and historical problems, I shall waste no further space on these -speculations on the nature of man before he became man. His body may -have been evolved from the brutes; but we know nothing of any such -transition that throws the smallest light upon his soul as it has shown -itself in history. Unfortunately the same school of writers pursue the -same style of reasoning when they come to the first real evidence about -the first real men. Strictly speaking of course we know nothing about -prehistoric man, for the simple reason that he was prehistoric. The -history of prehistoric man is a very obvious contradiction in terms. It -is the sort of unreason in which only rationalists are allowed to -indulge. If a parson had casually observed that the Flood was -antediluvian, it is possible that he might be a little chaffed about his -logic. If a bishop were to say that Adam was Preadamite, we might think -it a little odd. But we are not supposed to notice such verbal trifles -when sceptical historians talk of the part of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_43" id="page_43">{43}</a></span> history that is -prehistoric. The truth is that they are using the terms historic and -prehistoric without any clear test or definition in their minds. What -they mean is that there are traces of human lives before the beginning -of human stories; and in that sense we do at least know that humanity -was before history.</p> - -<p>Human civilisation is older than human records. That is the sane way of -stating our relations to these remote things. Humanity has left examples -of its other arts earlier than the art of writing; or at least of any -writing that we can read. But it is certain that the primitive arts were -arts; and it is in every way probable that the primitive civilisations -were civilisations. The man left a picture of the reindeer, but he did -not leave a narrative of how he hunted the reindeer; and therefore what -we say of him is hypothesis and not history. But the art he did practise -was quite artistic; his drawing was quite intelligent, and there is no -reason to doubt that his story of the hunt would be quite intelligent, -only if it exists it is not intelligible. In short, the prehistoric -period need not mean the primitive period, in the sense of the barbaric -or bestial period. It does not mean the time before civilisation or the -time before arts and crafts. It simply means the time before any -connected narratives that we can read. This does indeed make all the -practical difference between remembrance and forgetfulness; but it is -perfectly possible that there were all sorts of forgotten forms of -civilisation, as well as all sorts of forgotten forms of barbarism. And -in any case everything indicated that many of these forgotten or -half-forgotten social stages were much more civilised and much less -barbaric than is vulgarly imagined to-day. But even about these -unwritten histories of humanity, when humanity was quite certainly -human, we can only conjecture with the greatest doubt and caution. And -unfortunately doubt and caution are the last things commonly encouraged -by the loose evolutionism of current<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_44" id="page_44">{44}</a></span> culture. For that culture is full -of curiosity; and the one thing that it cannot endure is the agony of -agnosticism. It was in the Darwinian age that the word first became -known and the thing first became impossible.</p> - -<p>It is necessary to say plainly that all this ignorance is simply covered -by impudence. Statements are made so plainly and positively that men -have hardly the moral courage to pause upon them and find that they are -without support. The other day a scientific summary of the state of a -prehistoric tribe began confidently with the words ‘They wore no -clothes.’ Not one reader in a hundred probably stopped to ask himself -how we should come to know whether clothes had once been worn by people -of whom everything has perished except a few chips of bone and stone. It -was doubtless hoped that we should find a stone hat as well as a stone -hatchet. It was evidently anticipated that we might discover an -everlasting pair of trousers of the same substance as the everlasting -rock. But to persons of a less sanguine temperament it will be -immediately apparent that people might wear simple garments, or even -highly ornamental garments, without leaving any more traces of them than -these people have left. The plaiting of rushes and grasses, for -instance, might have become more and more elaborate without in the least -becoming more eternal. One civilisation might specialise in things that -happened to be perishable, like weaving and embroidering, and not in -things that happen to be more permanent, like architecture and -sculpture. There have been plenty of examples of such specialist -societies. A man of the future finding the ruins of our factory -machinery might as fairly say that we were acquainted with iron and with -no other substance; and announce the discovery that the proprietor and -manager of the factory undoubtedly walked about naked—or possibly wore -iron hats and trousers.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_45" id="page_45">{45}</a></span></p> - -<p>It is not contended here that these primitive men did wear clothes any -more than they did weave rushes; but merely that we have not enough -evidence to know whether they did or not. But it may be worth while to -look back for a moment at some of the very few things that we do know -and that they did do. If we consider them, we shall certainly not find -them inconsistent with such ideas as dress and decoration. We do not -know whether they decorated themselves; but we do know that they -decorated other things. We do not know whether they had embroideries, -and if they had, the embroideries could not be expected to have -remained. But we do know that they did have pictures; and the pictures -have remained. And there remains with them, as already suggested, the -testimony to something that is absolute and unique; that belongs to man -and to nothing else except man; that is a difference of kind and not a -difference of degree. A monkey does not draw clumsily and a man -cleverly; a monkey does not begin the art of representation and a man -carry it to perfection. A monkey does not do it at all; he does not -begin to do it at all; he does not begin to begin to do it at all. A -line of some kind is crossed before the first faint line can begin.</p> - -<p>Another distinguished writer, again, in commenting on the cave-drawings -attributed to the neolithic men of the reindeer period, said that none -of their pictures appeared to have any religious purpose; and he seemed -almost to infer that they had no religion. I can hardly imagine a -thinner thread of argument than this which reconstructs the very inmost -moods of the prehistoric mind from the fact that somebody who has -scrawled a few sketches on a rock, from what motive we do not know, for -what purpose we do not know, acting under what customs or conventions we -do not know, may possibly have found it easier to draw reindeers than to -draw religion. He may have drawn it because it was his religious symbol. -He<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_46" id="page_46">{46}</a></span> may have drawn it because it was not his religious symbol. He may -have drawn anything except his religious symbol. He may have drawn his -real religious symbol somewhere else; or it may have been deliberately -destroyed when it was drawn. He may have done or not done half a million -things; but in any case it is an amazing leap of logic to infer that he -had no religious symbol, or even to infer from his having no religious -symbol that he had no religion. Now this particular case happens to -illustrate the insecurity of these guesses very clearly. For a little -while afterwards, people discovered not only paintings but sculptures of -animals in the caves. Some of these were said to be damaged with dints -or holes supposed to be the marks of arrows; and the damaged images were -conjectured to be the remains of some magic rite of killing the beasts -in effigy; while the undamaged images were explained in connection with -another magic rite invoking fertility upon the herds. Here again there -is something faintly humorous about the scientific habit of having it -both ways. If the image is damaged it proves one superstition and if it -is undamaged it proves another. Here again there is a rather reckless -jumping to conclusions; it has hardly occurred to the speculators that a -crowd of hunters imprisoned in winter in a cave might conceivably have -aimed at a mark for fun, as a sort of primitive parlour game. But in any -case, if it was done out of superstition, what has become of the thesis -that it had nothing to do with religion? The truth is that all this -guesswork has nothing to do with anything. It is not half such a good -parlour game as shooting arrows at a carved reindeer, for it is shooting -them into the air.</p> - -<p>Such speculators rather tend to forget, for instance, that men in the -modern world also sometimes make marks in caves. When a crowd of -trippers is conducted through the labyrinth of the Marvellous Grotto or -the Magic Stalactite Cavern, it has been observed<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_47" id="page_47">{47}</a></span> that hieroglyphics -spring into sight where they have passed; initials and inscriptions -which the learned refuse to refer to any remote date. But the time will -come when these inscriptions will really be of remote date. And if the -professors of the future are anything like the professors of the -present, they will be able to deduce a vast number of very vivid and -interesting things from these cave-writings of the twentieth century. If -I know anything about the breed, and if they have not fallen away from -the full-blooded confidence of their fathers, they will be able to -discover the most fascinating facts about us from the initials left in -the Magic Grotto by ’Arry and ’Arriet, possibly in the form of two -intertwined A’s. From this alone they will know (1) That as the letters -are rudely chipped with a blunt pocket-knife, the twentieth century -possessed no delicate graving-tools and was unacquainted with the art of -sculpture. (2) That as the letters are capital letters, our civilisation -never evolved any small letters or anything like a running hand. (3) -That because initial consonants stand together in an unpronounceable -fashion, our language was possibly akin to Welsh or more probably of the -early Semitic type that ignored vowels. (4) That as the initials of -’Arry and ’Arriet do not in any special fashion profess to be religious -symbols, our civilisation possessed no religion. Perhaps the last is -about the nearest to the truth; for a civilisation that had religion -would have a little more reason.</p> - -<p>It is commonly affirmed, again, that religion grew in a very slow and -evolutionary manner; and even that it grew not from one cause, but from -a combination that might be called a coincidence. Generally speaking, -the three chief elements in the combination are, first, the fear of the -chief of the tribe (whom Mr. Wells insists on calling, with regrettable -familiarity, the Old Man), second, the phenomena of dreams, and third, -the sacrificial associations of the harvest<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_48" id="page_48">{48}</a></span> and the resurrection -symbolised in the growing corn. I may remark in passing that it seems to -me very doubtful psychology to refer one living and single spirit to -three dead and disconnected causes, if they were merely dead and -disconnected causes. Suppose Mr. Wells, in one of his fascinating novels -of the future, were to tell us that there would arise among men a new -and as yet nameless passion, of which men will dream as they dream of -first love, for which they will die as they die for a flag and a -fatherland. I think we should be a little puzzled if he told us that -this singular sentiment would be a combination of the habit of smoking -Woodbines, the increase of the income tax and the pleasure of a motorist -in exceeding the speed limit. We could not easily imagine this, because -we could not imagine any connection between the three or any common -feeling that could include them all. Nor could any one imagine any -connection between corn and dreams and an old chief with a spear, unless -there was already a common feeling to include them all. But if there was -such a common feeling it could only be the religious feeling; and these -things could not be the beginnings of a religious feeling that existed -already. I think anybody’s common sense will tell him that it is far -more likely that this sort of mystical sentiment did exist already; and -that in the light of it dreams and kings and cornfields could appear -mystical then, as they can appear mystical now.</p> - -<p>For the plain truth is that all this is a trick of making things seem -distant and dehumanised, merely by pretending not to understand things -that we do understand. It is like saying that prehistoric men had an -ugly and uncouth habit of opening their mouths wide at intervals and -stuffing strange substances into them, as if we had never heard of -eating. It is like saying that the terrible Troglodytes of the Stone Age -lifted alternate legs in rotation, as if we had never heard of walking. -If it were meant to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_49" id="page_49">{49}</a></span> touch the mystical nerve and awaken us to the -wonder of walking and eating, it might be a legitimate fancy. As it is -here intended to kill the mystical nerve and deaden us to the wonder of -religion, it is irrational rubbish. It pretends to find something -incomprehensible in the feelings that we all comprehend. Who does <i>not</i> -find dreams mysterious, and feel that they lie on the dark borderland of -being? Who does <i>not</i> feel the death and resurrection of the growing -things of the earth as something near to the secret of the universe? Who -does <i>not</i> understand that there must always be the savour of something -sacred about authority and the solidarity that is the soul of the tribe? -If there be any anthropologist who really finds these things remote and -impossible to realise, we can say nothing of that scientific gentleman -except that he has not got so large and enlightened a mind as a -primitive man. To me it seems obvious that nothing but a spiritual -sentiment already active could have clothed these separate and diverse -things with sanctity. To say that religion came <i>from</i> reverencing a -chief or sacrificing at a harvest is to put a highly elaborate cart -before a really primitive horse. It is like saying that the impulse to -draw pictures came from the contemplation of the pictures of reindeers -in the cave. In other words, it is explaining painting by saying that it -arose out of the work of painters; or accounting for art by saying that -it arose out of art. It is even more like saying that the thing we call -poetry arose as the result of certain customs; such as that of an ode -being officially composed to celebrate the advent of spring; or that of -a young man rising at a regular hour to listen to the skylark and then -writing his report on a piece of paper. It is quite true that young men -often become poets in the spring; and it is quite true that when once -there are poets, no mortal power can restrain them from writing about -the skylark. But the poems did not exist<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_50" id="page_50">{50}</a></span> before the poets. The poetry -did not arise out of the poetic forms. In other words, it is hardly an -adequate explanation of how a thing appeared for the first time to say -it existed already. Similarly, we cannot say that religion arose out of -the religious forms, because that is only another way of saying that it -only arose when it existed already. It needed a certain sort of mind to -see that there was anything mystical about the dreams or the dead, as it -needed a particular sort of mind to see that there was anything poetical -about the skylark or the spring. That mind was presumably what we call -the human mind, very much as it exists to this day; for mystics still -meditate upon death and dreams as poets still write about spring and -skylarks. But there is not the faintest hint to suggest that anything -short of the human mind we know feels any of these mystical associations -at all. A cow in a field seems to derive no lyrical impulse or -instruction from her unrivalled opportunities for listening to the -skylark. And similarly there is no reason to suppose that live sheep -will ever begin to use dead sheep as the basis of a system of elaborate -ancestor-worship. It is true that in the spring a young quadruped’s -fancy may lightly turn to thoughts of love, but no succession of springs -has ever led it to turn however lightly to thoughts of literature. And -in the same way, while it is true that a dog has dreams, while most -other quadrupeds do not seem even to have that, we have waited a long -time for the dog to develop his dreams into an elaborate system of -religious ceremonial. We have waited so long that we have really ceased -to expect it; and we no more look to see a dog apply his dreams to -ecclesiastical construction than to see him examine his dreams by the -rules of psycho-analysis. It is obvious, in short, that for some reason -or other these natural experiences, and even natural excitements, never -do pass the line that separates them from creative expression like art -and religion, in any<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_51" id="page_51">{51}</a></span> creature except man. They never do, they never -have, and it is now to all appearance very improbable that they ever -will. It is not impossible, in the sense of self-contradictory, that we -should see cows fasting from grass every Friday or going on their knees -as in the old legend about Christmas Eve. It is not in that sense -impossible that cows should contemplate death until they can lift up a -sublime psalm of lamentation to the tune the old cow died of. It is not -in that sense impossible that they should express their hopes of a -heavenly career in a symbolical dance, in honour of the cow that jumped -over the moon. It may be that the dog will at last have laid in a -sufficient store of dreams to enable him to build a temple to Cerberus -as a sort of canine trinity. It may be that his dreams have already -begun to turn into visions capable of verbal expression, in some -revelation about the Dog Star as the spiritual home for lost dogs. These -things are logically possible, in the sense that it is logically -difficult to prove the universal negative which we call an -impossibility. But all that instinct for the probable, which we call -common sense, must long ago have told us that the animals are not to all -appearance evolving in that sense; and that, to say the least, we are -not likely to have any personal evidence of their passing from the -animal experience to the human experiments. But spring and death and -even dreams, considered merely as experiences, are their experiences as -much as ours. The only possible conclusion is that these experiences, -considered as experiences, do not generate anything like a religious -sense in any mind except a mind like ours. We come back to the fact of a -certain kind of mind as already alive and alone. It was unique and it -could make creeds as it could make cave-drawings. The materials for -religion had lain there for countless ages like the materials for -everything else; but the power of religion was in the mind. Man could -already see in these things the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_52" id="page_52">{52}</a></span> riddles and hints and hopes that he -still sees in them. He could not only dream but dream about dreams. He -could not only see the dead but see the shadow of death; and was -possessed with that mysterious mystification that for ever finds death -incredible.</p> - -<p>It is quite true that we have even these hints chiefly about man when he -unmistakably appears as man. We cannot affirm this or anything else -about the alleged animal originally connecting man and the brutes. But -that is only because he is not an animal but an allegation. We cannot be -certain that Pithecanthropus ever worshipped, because we cannot be -certain that he ever lived. He is only a vision called up to fill the -void that does in fact yawn between the first creatures who were -certainly men and any other creatures that are certainly apes or other -animals. A few very doubtful fragments are scraped together to suggest -such an intermediate creature because it is required by a certain -philosophy; but nobody supposes that these are sufficient to establish -anything philosophical even in support of that philosophy. A scrap of -skull found in Java cannot establish anything about religion or about -the absence of religion. If there ever was any such ape-man, he may have -exhibited as much ritual in religion as a man or as much simplicity in -religion as an ape. He may have been a mythologist or he may have been a -myth. It might be interesting to inquire whether this mystical quality -appeared in a transition from the ape to the man, if there were really -any types of the transition to inquire about. In other words, the -missing link might or might not be mystical if he were not missing. But -compared with the evidence we have of real human beings, we have no -evidence that he was a human being or a half-human being or a being at -all. Even the most extreme evolutionists do not attempt to deduce any -evolutionary views about the origin of religion from <i>him</i>. Even in -trying to prove that religion grew slowly from<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_53" id="page_53">{53}</a></span> rude or irrational -sources, they begin their proof with the first men who were men. But -their own proof only proves that the men who were already men were -already mystics. They used the rude and irrational elements as only men -and mystics can use them. We come back once more to the simple truth; -that at some time too early for these critics to trace, a transition had -occurred to which bones and stones cannot in their nature bear witness; -and man became a living soul.</p> - -<p>Touching this matter of the origin of religion, the truth is that those -who are thus trying to explain it are trying to explain it away. -Subconsciously they feel that it looks less formidable when thus -lengthened out into a gradual and almost invisible process. But in fact -this perspective entirely falsifies the reality of experience. They -bring together two things that are totally different, the stray hints of -evolutionary origins and the solid and self-evident block of humanity, -and try to shift their standpoint till they see them in a single -foreshortened line. But it is an optical illusion. Men do not in fact -stand related to monkeys or missing links in any such chain as that in -which men stand related to men. There may have been intermediate -creatures whose faint traces can be found here and there in the huge -gap. Of these beings, if they ever existed, it may be true that they -were things very unlike men or men very unlike ourselves. But of -prehistoric men, such as those called the cave-men or the reindeer men, -it is not true in any sense whatever. Prehistoric men of that sort were -things exactly like men and men exceedingly like ourselves. They only -happened to be men about whom we do not know much, for the simple reason -that they have left no records or chronicles; but all that we do know -about them makes them just as human and ordinary as men in a medieval -manor or a Greek city.</p> - -<p>Looking from our human standpoint up the long<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_54" id="page_54">{54}</a></span> perspective of humanity, -we simply recognise this thing as human. If we had to recognise it as -animal, we should have had to recognise it as abnormal. If we chose to -look through the other end of the telescope, as I have done more than -once in these speculations, if we chose to project the human figure -forward out of an unhuman world, we could only say that one of the -animals had obviously gone mad. But seeing the thing from the right end, -or rather from the inside, we know it is sanity; and we know that these -primitive men were sane. We hail a certain human freemasonry wherever we -see it, in savages, in foreigners or in historical characters. For -instance, all we can infer from primitive legend, and all we know of -barbaric life, supports a certain moral and even mystical idea of which -the commonest symbol is clothes. For clothes are very literally -vestments, and man wears them because he is a priest. It is true that -even as an animal he is here different from the animals. Nakedness is -not nature to him; it is not his life but rather his death; even in the -vulgar sense of his death of cold. But clothes are worn for dignity or -decency or decoration where they are not in any way wanted for warmth. -It would sometimes appear that they are valued for ornament before they -are valued for use. It would almost always appear that they are felt to -have some connection with decorum. Conventions of this sort vary a great -deal with various times and places; and there are some who cannot get -over this reflection, and for whom it seems a sufficient argument for -letting all conventions slide. They never tire of repeating, with simple -wonder, that dress is different in the Cannibal Islands and in Camden -Town; they cannot get any further and throw up the whole idea of decency -in despair. They might as well say that because there have been hats of -a good many different shapes, and some rather eccentric shapes, -therefore hats do not matter or do not exist. They would<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_55" id="page_55">{55}</a></span> probably add -that there is no such thing as sunstroke or going bald. Men have felt -everywhere that certain forms were necessary to fence off and protect -certain private things from contempt or coarse misunderstanding; and the -keeping of those forms, whatever they were, made for dignity and mutual -respect. The fact that they mostly refer, more or less remotely, to the -relations of the sexes illustrates the two facts that must be put at the -very beginning of the record of the race. The first is the fact that -original sin is really original. Not merely in theology but in history -it is a thing rooted in the origins. Whatever else men have believed, -they have all believed that there is something the matter with mankind. -This sense of sin has made it impossible to be natural and have no -clothes, just as it has made it impossible to be natural and have no -laws. But above all it is to be found in that other fact, which is the -father and mother of all laws as it is itself founded on a father and -mother: the thing that is before all thrones and even all commonwealths.</p> - -<p>That fact is the family. Here again we must keep the enormous -proportions of a normal thing clear of various modifications and degrees -and doubts more or less reasonable, like clouds clinging about a -mountain. It may be that what we call the family had to fight its way -from or through various anarchies and aberrations; but it certainly -survived them and is quite as likely as not to have also preceded them. -As we shall see in the case of communism and nomadism, more formless -things could and did lie on the flank of societies that had taken a -fixed form; but there is nothing to show that the form did not exist -before the formlessness. What is vital is that form is more important -than formlessness; and that the material called mankind has taken this -form. For instance, of the rules revolving round sex, which were -recently mentioned, none is more curious than the savage custom commonly -called the <i>couvade</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_56" id="page_56">{56}</a></span> That seems like a law out of topsyturvydom; by -which the father is treated as if he were the mother. In any case it -clearly involves the mystical sense of sex; but many have maintained -that it is really a symbolic act by which the father accepts the -responsibility of fatherhood. In that case that grotesque antic is -really a very solemn act; for it is the foundation of all we call the -family and all we know as human society. Some groping in these dark -beginnings have said that mankind was once under a matriarchy; I suppose -that under a matriarchy it would not be called mankind but womankind. -But others have conjectured that what is called matriarchy was simply -moral anarchy, in which the mother alone remained fixed because all the -fathers were fugitive and irresponsible. Then came the moment when the -man decided to guard and guide what he had created. So he became the -head of the family, not as a bully with a big club to beat women with, -but rather as a respectable person trying to be a responsible person. -Now all that might be perfectly true, and might even have been the first -family act, and it would still be true that man then for the first time -acted like a man, and therefore for the first time became fully a man. -But it might quite as well be true that the matriarchy or moral anarchy, -or whatever we call it, was only one of the hundred social dissolutions -or barbaric backslidings which may have occurred at intervals in -prehistoric as they certainly did in historic times. A symbol like the -<i>couvade</i>, if it was really such a symbol, may have commemorated the -suppression of a heresy rather than the first rise of a religion. We -cannot conclude with any certainty about these things, except in their -big results in the building of mankind, but we can say in what style the -bulk of it and the best of it is built. We can say that the family is -the unit of the state; that it is the cell that makes up the formation. -Round the family do indeed gather the sanctities that separate men from<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_57" id="page_57">{57}</a></span> -ants and bees. Decency is the curtain of that tent; liberty is the wall -of that city; property is but the family farm; honour is but the family -flag. In the practical proportions of human history, we come back to -that fundamental of the father and the mother and the child. It has been -said already that if this story cannot start with religious assumptions, -it must none the less start with some moral or metaphysical assumptions, -or no sense can be made of the story of man. And this is a very good -instance of that alternative necessity. If we are not of those who begin -by invoking a divine Trinity, we must none the less invoke a human -Trinity; and see that triangle repeated everywhere in the pattern of the -world. For the highest event in history to which all history looks -forward and leads up, is only something that is at once the reversal and -the renewal of that triangle. Or rather it is the one triangle -superimposed so as to intersect the other, making a sacred pentacle of -which, in a mightier sense than that of the magicians, the fiends are -afraid. The old Trinity was of father and mother and child, and is -called the human family. The new is of child and mother and father, and -has the name of the Holy Family. It is in no way altered except in being -entirely reversed; just as the world which it transformed was not in the -least different, except in being turned upside-down.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_58" id="page_58">{58}</a></span></p> - -<h3><a name="CHAPTER_III-a" id="CHAPTER_III-a"></a>CHAPTER III<br /><br /> -THE ANTIQUITY OF CIVILISATION</h3> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">The</span> modern man looking at the most ancient origins has been like a man -watching for daybreak in a strange land; and expecting to see that dawn -breaking behind bare uplands or solitary peaks. But that dawn is -breaking behind the black bulk of great cities long builded and lost for -us in the original night; colossal cities like the houses of giants, in -which even the carved ornamental animals are taller than the palm-trees; -in which the painted portrait can be twelve times the size of the man; -with tombs like mountains of man set four-square and pointing to the -stars; with winged and bearded bulls standing and staring enormous at -the gates of temples; standing still eternally as if a stamp would shake -the world. The dawn of history reveals a humanity already civilised. -Perhaps it reveals a civilisation already old. And among other more -important things, it reveals the folly of most of the generalisations -about the previous and unknown period when it was really young. The two -first human societies of which we have any reliable and detailed record -are Babylon and Egypt. It so happens that these two vast and splendid -achievements of the genius of the ancients bear witness against two of -the commonest and crudest assumptions of the culture of the moderns. If -we want to get rid of half the nonsense about nomads and cave-men and -the old man of the forest, we need only look steadily at the two solid -and stupendous facts called Egypt and Babylon.</p> - -<p>Of course most of these speculators who are talking<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_59" id="page_59">{59}</a></span> about primitive men -are thinking about modern savages. They prove their progressive -evolution by assuming that a great part of the human race has not -progressed or evolved; or even changed in any way at all. I do not agree -with their theory of change; nor do I agree with their dogma of things -unchangeable. I may not believe that civilised man has had so rapid and -recent a progress; but I cannot quite understand why uncivilised man -should be so mystically immortal and immutable. A somewhat simpler mode -of thought and speech seems to me to be needed throughout this inquiry. -Modern savages cannot be exactly like primitive man, because they are -not primitive. Modern savages are not ancient because they are modern. -Something has happened to their race as much as to ours, during the -thousands of years of our existence and endurance on the earth. They -have had some experiences, and have presumably acted on them if not -profited by them, like the rest of us. They have had some environment, -and even some change of environment, and have presumably adapted -themselves to it in a proper and decorous evolutionary manner. This -would be true even if the experiences were mild or the environment -dreary; for there is an effect in mere time when it takes the moral form -of monotony. But it has appeared to a good many intelligent and -well-informed people quite as probable that the experience of the -savages has been that of a decline from civilisation. Most of those who -criticise this view do not seem to have any very clear notion of what a -decline from civilisation would be like. Heaven help them, it is likely -enough that they will soon find out. They seem to be content if cave-men -and cannibal islanders have some things in common, such as certain -particular implements. But it is obvious on the face of it that any -peoples reduced for any reason to a ruder life would have some things in -common. If we lost all our firearms we should<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_60" id="page_60">{60}</a></span> make bows and arrows; but -we should not necessarily resemble in every way the first men who made -bows and arrows. It is said that the Russians in their great retreat -were so short of armament that they fought with clubs cut in the wood. -But a professor of the future would err in supposing that the Russian -Army of 1916 was a naked Scythian tribe that had never been out of the -wood. It is like saying that a man in his second childhood must exactly -copy his first. A baby is bald like an old man; but it would be an error -for one ignorant of infancy to infer that the baby had a long white -beard. Both a baby and an old man walk with difficulty; but he who shall -expect the old gentleman to lie on his back, and kick joyfully instead, -will be disappointed.</p> - -<p>It is therefore absurd to argue that the first pioneers of humanity must -have been identical with some of the last and most stagnant leavings of -it. There were almost certainly some things, there were probably many -things, in which the two were widely different or flatly contrary. An -example of the way in which this distinction works, and an example -essential to our argument here, is that of the nature and origin of -government. I have already alluded to Mr. H. G. Wells and the Old Man, -with whom he appears to be on such intimate terms. If we considered the -cold facts of prehistoric evidence for this portrait of the prehistoric -chief of the tribe, we could only excuse it by saying that its brilliant -and versatile author simply forgot for a moment that he was supposed to -be writing a history, and dreamed he was writing one of his own very -wonderful and imaginative romances. At least I cannot imagine how he can -possibly know that the prehistoric ruler was called the Old Man or that -court etiquette requires it to be spelt with capital letters. He says of -the same potentate, ‘No one was allowed to touch his spear or to sit in -his seat.’ I have difficulty in believing that anybody<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_61" id="page_61">{61}</a></span> has dug up a -prehistoric spear with a prehistoric label, ‘Visitors are Requested not -to Touch,’ or a complete throne with the inscription, ‘Reserved for the -Old Man.’ But it may be presumed that the writer, who can hardly be -supposed to be merely making up things out of his own head, was merely -taking for granted this very dubious parallel between the prehistoric -and the decivilised man. It may be that in certain savage tribes the -chief is called the Old Man and nobody is allowed to touch his spear or -sit on his seat. It may be that in those cases he is surrounded with -superstitious and traditional terrors; and it may be that in those -cases, for all I know, he is despotic and tyrannical. But there is not a -grain of evidence that primitive government was despotic and tyrannical. -It may have been, of course, for it may have been anything or even -nothing; it may not have existed at all. But the despotism in certain -dingy and decayed tribes in the twentieth century does not prove that -the first men were ruled despotically. It does not even suggest it; it -does not even begin to hint at it. If there is one fact we really can -prove, from the history that we really do know, it is that despotism can -be a development, often a late development and very often indeed the end -of societies that have been highly democratic. A despotism may almost be -defined as a tired democracy. As fatigue falls on a community, the -citizens are less inclined for that eternal vigilance which has truly -been called the price of liberty; and they prefer to arm only one single -sentinel to watch the city while they sleep. It is also true that they -sometimes needed him for some sudden and militant act of reform; it is -equally true that he often took advantage of being the strong man armed -to be a tyrant like some of the Sultans of the East. But I cannot see -why the Sultan should have appeared any earlier in history than many -other human figures. On the contrary, the strong man armed obviously<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_62" id="page_62">{62}</a></span> -depends upon the superiority of his armour; and armament of that sort -comes with more complex civilisation. One man may kill twenty with a -machine-gun; it is obviously less likely that he could do it with a -piece of flint. As for the current cant about the strongest man ruling -by force and fear, it is simply a nursery fairy-tale about a giant with -a hundred hands. Twenty men could hold down the strongest strong man in -any society, ancient or modern. Undoubtedly they might <i>admire</i>, in a -romantic and poetical sense, the man who was really the strongest; but -that is quite a different thing, and is as purely moral and even -mystical as the admiration for the purest or the wisest. But the spirit -that endures the mere cruelties and caprices of an established despot is -the spirit of an ancient and settled and probably stiffened society, not -the spirit of a new one. As his name implies, the Old Man is the ruler -of an old humanity.</p> - -<p>It is far more probable that a primitive society was something like a -pure democracy. To this day the comparatively simple agricultural -communities are by far the purest democracies. Democracy is a thing -which is always breaking down through the complexity of civilisation. -Any one who likes may state it by saying that democracy is the foe of -civilisation. But he must remember that some of us really prefer -democracy to civilisation, in the sense of preferring democracy to -complexity. Anyhow, peasants tilling patches of their own land in a -rough equality, and meeting to vote directly under a village tree, are -the most truly self-governing of men. It is surely as likely as not that -such a simple idea was found in the first condition of even simpler men. -Indeed the despotic vision is exaggerated, even if we do not regard the -men as men. Even on an evolutionary assumption of the most materialistic -sort, there is really no reason why men should not have had at least as -much camaraderie as rats or rooks. Leader<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_63" id="page_63">{63}</a></span>ship of some sort they -doubtless had, as have the gregarious animals; but leadership implies no -such irrational servility as that attributed to the superstitious -subjects of the Old Man. There was doubtless somebody corresponding, to -use Tennyson’s expression, to the many-wintered crow that leads the -clanging rookery home. But I fancy that if that venerable fowl began to -act after the fashion of some Sultans in ancient and decayed Asia, it -would become a very clanging rookery and the many-wintered crow would -not see many more winters. It may be remarked, in this connection, but -even among animals it would seem that something else is respected more -than bestial violence, if it be only the familiarity which in men is -called tradition or the experience which in men is called wisdom. I do -not know if crows really follow the oldest crow, but if they do they are -certainly not following the strongest crow. And I do know, in the human -case, that if some ritual of seniority keeps savages reverencing -somebody called the Old Man, then at least they have not our own servile -sentimental weakness for worshipping the Strong Man.</p> - -<p>It may be said then that primitive government, like primitive art and -religion and everything else, is very imperfectly known or rather -guessed at; but that it is at least as good a guess to suggest that it -was as popular as a Balkan or Pyrenean village as that it was as -capricious and secret as a Turkish divan. Both the mountain democracy -and the oriental palace are modern in the sense that they are still -there, or are some sort of growth of history; but of the two the palace -has much more the look of being an accumulation and a corruption, the -village much more the look of being a really unchanged and primitive -thing. But my suggestions at this point do not go beyond expressing a -wholesome doubt about the current assumption. I think it interesting, -for instance, that liberal institutions have<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_64" id="page_64">{64}</a></span> been traced even by -moderns back to barbarian or undeveloped states, when it happened to be -convenient for the support of some race or nation or philosophy. So the -Socialists profess that their ideal of communal property existed in very -early times. So the Jews are proud of the Jubilees or juster -redistributions under their ancient law. So the Teutonists boasted of -tracing parliaments and juries and various popular things among the -Germanic tribes of the North. So the Celtophiles and those testifying to -the wrongs of Ireland have pleaded the more equal justice of the clan -system, to which the Irish chiefs bore witness before Strongbow. The -strength of the case varies in the different cases; but as there is some -case for all of them, I suspect there is some case for the general -proposition that popular institutions of some sort were by no means -uncommon in early and simple societies. Each of these separate schools -were making the admission to prove a particular modern thesis; but taken -together they suggest a more ancient and general truth, that there was -something more in prehistoric councils than ferocity and fear. Each of -these separate theorists had his own axe to grind, but he was willing to -use a stone axe; and he manages to suggest that the stone axe might have -been as republican as the guillotine.</p> - -<p>But the truth is that the curtain rises upon the play already in -progress. In one sense it is a true paradox that there was history -before history. But it is not the irrational paradox implied in -prehistoric history; for it is a history we do not know. Very probably -it was exceedingly like the history we do know, except in the one detail -that we do not know it. It is thus the very opposite of the pretentious -prehistoric history, which professes to trace everything in a consistent -course from the amoeba to the anthropoid and from the anthropoid to the -agnostic. So far from being a question of our knowing all about queer -creatures very different from ourselves,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_65" id="page_65">{65}</a></span> they were very probably people -very like ourselves, except that we know nothing about them. In other -words, our most ancient records only reach back to a time when humanity -had long been human, and even long been civilised. The most ancient -records we have not only mention but take for granted things like kings -and priests and princes and assemblies of the people; they describe -communities that are roughly recognisable as communities in our own -sense. Some of them are despotic; but we cannot tell that they have -always been despotic. Some of them may be already decadent, and nearly -all are mentioned as if they were old. We do not know what really -happened in the world before those records; but the little we do know -would leave us anything but astonished if we learnt that it was very -much like what happens in this world now. There would be nothing -inconsistent or confounding about the discovery that those unknown ages -were full of republics collapsing under monarchies and rising again as -republics, empires expanding and finding colonies and then losing -colonies, kingdoms combining again into world-states and breaking up -again into small nationalities, classes selling themselves into slavery -and marching out once more into liberty; all that procession of humanity -which may or may not be a progress but is most assuredly a romance. But -the first chapters of the romance have been torn out of the book; and we -shall never read them.</p> - -<p>It is so also with the more special fancy about evolution and social -stability. According to the real records available, barbarism and -civilisation were not successive stages in the progress of the world. -They were conditions that existed side by side, as they still exist side -by side. There were civilisations then as there are civilisations now; -there are savages now as there were savages then. It is suggested that -all men passed through a nomadic stage; but it is certain that there are -some who have never passed<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_66" id="page_66">{66}</a></span> out of it, and it seems not unlikely that -there were some who never passed into it. It is probable that from very -primitive times the static tiller of the soil and the wandering shepherd -were two distinct types of men; and the chronological rearrangement of -them is but a mark of that mania for progressive stages that has largely -falsified history. It is suggested that there was a communist stage, in -which private property was everywhere unknown, a whole humanity living -on the negation of property; but the evidences of this negation are -themselves rather negative. Redistributions of property, jubilees, and -agrarian laws occur at various intervals and in various forms; but that -humanity inevitably passed through a communist stage seems as doubtful -as the parallel proposition that humanity will inevitably return to it. -It is chiefly interesting as evidence that the boldest plans for the -future invoke the authority of the past; and that even a revolutionary -seeks to satisfy himself that he is also a reactionary. There is an -amusing parallel example in the case of what is called feminism. In -spite of all the pseudo-scientific gossip about marriage by capture and -the cave-man beating the cave-woman with a club, it may be noted that as -soon as feminism became a fashionable cry, it was insisted that human -civilisation in its first stage had been a matriarchy. Apparently it was -the cave-woman who carried the club. Anyhow all these ideas are little -better than guesses; and they have a curious way of following the -fortune of modern theories and fads. In any case they are not history in -the sense of record; and we may repeat that when it comes to record, the -broad truth is that barbarism and civilisation have always dwelt side by -side in the world, the civilisation sometimes spreading to absorb the -barbarians, sometimes decaying into relative barbarism, and in almost -all cases possessing in a more finished form certain ideas and -institutions which the barbarians possess in a ruder<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_67" id="page_67">{67}</a></span> form; such as -government or social authority, the arts and especially the decorative -arts, mysteries and taboos of various kinds especially surrounding the -matter of sex, and some form of that fundamental thing which is the -chief concern of this inquiry: the thing that we call religion.</p> - -<p>Now Egypt and Babylon, those two primeval monsters, might in this matter -have been specially provided as models. They might almost be called -working models to show how these modern theories do not work. The two -great truths we know about these two great cultures happen to contradict -flatly the two current fallacies which have just been considered. The -story of Egypt might have been invented to point the moral that man does -not necessarily begin with despotism because he is barbarous, but very -often finds his way to despotism because he is civilised. He finds it -because he is experienced; or, what is often much the same thing, -because he is exhausted. And the story of Babylon might have been -invented to point the moral that man need not be a nomad or a communist -before he becomes a peasant or a citizen; and that such cultures are not -always in successive stages but often in contemporary states. Even -touching these great civilisations with which our written history -begins, there is a temptation of course to be too ingenious or too -cocksure. We can read the bricks of Babylon in a very different sense -from that in which we guess about the Cup and Ring stones; and we do -definitely know what is meant by the animals in the Egyptian -hieroglyphic as we know nothing of the animals in the neolithic cave. -But even here the admirable archeologists who have deciphered line after -line of miles of hieroglyphics may be tempted to read too much between -the lines; even the real authority on Babylon may forget how fragmentary -is his hard-won knowledge; may forget that Babylon has only heaved half -a brick at him, though half a brick is<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_68" id="page_68">{68}</a></span> better than no cuneiform. But -some truths, historic and not prehistoric, dogmatic and not -evolutionary, facts and not fancies, do indeed emerge from Egypt and -Babylon; and these two truths are among them.</p> - -<p>Egypt is a green ribbon along the river edging the dark red desolation -of the desert. It is a proverb, and one of vast antiquity, that it is -created by the mysterious bounty and almost sinister benevolence of the -Nile. When we first hear of Egyptians they are living as in a string of -river-side villages, in small and separate but co-operative communities -along the bank of the Nile. Where the river branched into the broad -Delta there was traditionally the beginning of a somewhat different -district or people; but this need not complicate the main truth. These -more or less independent though interdependent peoples were considerably -civilised already. They had a sort of heraldry; that is, decorative art -used for symbolic and social purposes; each sailing the Nile under its -own ensign representing some bird or animal. Heraldry involves two -things of enormous importance to normal humanity; the combination of the -two making that noble thing called co-operation; on which rest all -peasantries and peoples that are free. The art of heraldry means -independence; an image chosen by the imagination to express the -individuality. The science of heraldry means interdependence; an -agreement between different bodies to recognise different images; a -science of imagery. We have here therefore exactly that compromise of -co-operation between free families or groups which is the most normal -mode of life for humanity and is particularly apparent wherever men own -their own land and live on it. With the very mention of the images of -bird and beast the student of mythology will murmur the word ‘totem’ -almost in his sleep. But to my mind much of the trouble arises from his -habit of saying such words as if in his sleep. Throughout this rough -outline I have made a necessarily inadequate<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_69" id="page_69">{69}</a></span> attempt to keep on the -inside rather than the outside of such things; to consider them where -possible in terms of thought and not merely in terms of terminology. -There is very little value in talking about totems unless we have some -feeling of what it really felt like to have a totem. Granted that they -had totems and we have no totems; was it because they had more fear of -animals or more familiarity with animals? Did a man whose totem was a -wolf feel like a were-wolf or like a man running away from a were-wolf? -Did he feel like Uncle Remus about Brer Wolf or like St. Francis about -his brother the wolf, or like Mowgli about his brothers the wolves? Was -a totem a thing like the British lion or a thing like the British -bulldog? Was the worship of a totem like the feeling of niggers about -Mumbo Jumbo, or of children about Jumbo? I have never read any book of -folk-lore, however learned, that gave me any light upon this question, -which I think by far the most important one. I will confine myself to -repeating that the earliest Egyptian communities had a common -understanding about the images that stood for their individual states; -and that this amount of communication is prehistoric in the sense that -it is already there at the beginning of history. But as history unfolds -itself, this question of communication is clearly the main question of -these riverside communities. With the need of communication comes the -need of a common government and the growing greatness and spreading -shadow of the king. The other binding force besides the king, and -perhaps older than the king, is the priesthood; and the priesthood has -presumably even more to do with these ritual symbols and signals by -which men can communicate. And here in Egypt arose probably the primary -and certainly the typical invention to which we owe all history, and the -whole difference between the historic and the prehistoric: the -archetypal script, the art of writing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_70" id="page_70">{70}</a></span></p> - -<p>The popular pictures of these primeval empires are not half so popular -as they might be. There is shed over them the shadow of an exaggerated -gloom, more than the normal and even healthy sadness of heathen men. It -is part of the same sort of secret pessimism that loves to make -primitive man a crawling creature, whose body is filth and whose soul is -fear. It comes of course from the fact that men are moved most by their -religion; especially when it is irreligion. For them anything primary -and elemental must be evil. But it is the curious consequence that while -we have been deluged with the wildest experiments in primitive romance, -they have all missed the real romance of being primitive. They have -described scenes that are wholly imaginary, in which the men of the -Stone Age are men of stone like walking statues; in which the Assyrians -or Egyptians are as stiff or as painted as their own most archaic art. -But none of these makers of imaginary scenes have tried to imagine what -it must really have been like to see those things as fresh which we see -as familiar. They have not seen a man discovering fire like a child -discovering fireworks. They have not seen a man playing with the -wonderful invention called the wheel, like a boy playing at putting up a -wireless station. They have never put the spirit of youth into their -descriptions of the youth of the world. It follows that amid all their -primitive or prehistoric fancies there are no jokes. There are not even -practical jokes, in connection with the practical inventions. And this -is very sharply defined in the particular case of hieroglyphics; for -there seems to be serious indication that the whole high human art of -scripture or writing began with a joke.</p> - -<p>There are some who will learn with regret that it seems to have begun -with a pun. The king or the priests or some responsible persons, wishing -to send a message up the river in that inconveniently long and narrow -territory, hit on the idea of sending it in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_71" id="page_71">{71}</a></span> picture-writing, like that -of the Red Indian. Like most people who have written picture-writing for -fun, he found the words did not always fit. But when the word for taxes -sounded rather like the word for pig, he boldly put down a pig as a bad -pun and chanced it. So a modern hieroglyphist might represent ‘at once’ -by unscrupulously drawing a hat followed by a series of upright -numerals. It was good enough for the Pharaohs and ought to be good -enough for him. But it must have been great fun to write or even to read -these messages, when writing and reading were really a new thing. And if -people must write romances about ancient Egypt (and it seems that -neither prayers nor tears nor curses can withhold them from the habit), -I suggest that scenes like this would really remind us that the ancient -Egyptians were human beings. I suggest that somebody should describe the -scene of the great monarch sitting among his priests, and all of them -roaring with laughter and bubbling over with suggestions as the royal -puns grew more and more wild and indefensible. There might be another -scene of almost equal excitement about the decoding of this cipher; the -guesses and clues and discoveries having all the popular thrill of a -detective story. That is how primitive romance and primitive history -really ought to be written. For whatever was the quality of the -religious or moral life of remote times, and it was probably much more -human than is conventionally supposed, the scientific interest of such a -time must have been intense. Words must have been more wonderful than -wireless telegraphy; and experiments with common things a series of -electric shocks. We are still waiting for somebody to write a lively -story of primitive life. The point is in some sense a parenthesis here; -but it is connected with the general matter of political development, by -the institution which is most active in these first and most fascinating -of all the fairy-tales of science.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_72" id="page_72">{72}</a></span></p> - -<p>It is admitted that we owe most of this science to the priests. Modern -writers like Mr. Wells cannot be accused of any weakness of sympathy -with a pontifical hierarchy; but they agree at least in recognising what -pagan priesthoods did for the arts and sciences. Among the more ignorant -of the enlightened there was indeed a convention of saying that priests -had obstructed progress in all ages; and a politician once told me in a -debate that I was resisting modern reforms exactly as some ancient -priest probably resisted the discovery of wheels. I pointed out, in -reply, that it was far more likely that the ancient priest made the -discovery of the wheels. It is overwhelmingly probable that the ancient -priest had a great deal to do with the discovery of the art of writing. -It is obvious enough in the fact that the very word hieroglyphic is akin -to the word hierarchy. The religion of these priests was apparently a -more or less tangled polytheism of a type that is more particularly -described elsewhere. It passed through a period when it co-operated with -the king, another period when it was temporarily destroyed by the king, -who happened to be a prince with a private theism of his own, and a -third period when it practically destroyed the king and ruled in his -stead. But the world has to thank it for many things which it considers -common and necessary; and the creators of those common things ought -really to have a place among the heroes of humanity. If we were at rest -in a real paganism, instead of being restless in a rather irrational -reaction from Christianity, we might pay some sort of pagan honour to -these nameless makers of mankind. We might have veiled statues of the -man who first found fire or the man who first made a boat or the man who -first tamed a horse. And if we brought them garlands or sacrifices, -there would be more sense in it than in disfiguring our cities with -cockney statues of stale politicians and philanthropists. But one of -the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_73" id="page_73">{73}</a></span> strange marks of the strength of Christianity is that, since it -came, no pagan in our civilisation has been able to be really human.</p> - -<p>The point is here, however, that the Egyptian government, whether -pontifical or royal, found it more and more necessary to establish -communication; and there always went with communication a certain -element of coercion. It is not necessarily an indefensible thing that -the State grew more despotic as it grew more civilised; it is arguable -that it had to grow more despotic in order to grow more civilised. That -is the argument for autocracy in every age; and the interest lies in -seeing it illustrated in the earliest age. But it is emphatically not -true that it was most despotic in the earliest age and grew more liberal -in a later age; the practical process of history is exactly the reverse. -It is not true that the tribe began in the extreme of terror of the Old -Man and his seat and spear; it is probable, at least in Egypt, that the -Old Man was rather a New Man armed to attack new conditions. His spear -grew longer and longer and his throne rose higher and higher, as Egypt -rose into a complex and complete civilisation. That is what I mean by -saying that the history of the Egyptian territory is in this the history -of the earth; and directly denies the vulgar assumption that terrorism -can only come at the beginning and cannot come at the end. We do not -know what was the very first condition of the more or less feudal -amalgam of landowners, peasants, and slaves in the little commonwealths -beside the Nile; but it may have been a peasantry of an even more -popular sort. What we do know is that it was by experience and education -that little commonwealths lose their liberty; that absolute sovereignty -is something not merely ancient but rather relatively modern; and it is -at the end of the path called progress that men return to the king.</p> - -<p>Egypt exhibits, in that brief record of its remotest<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_74" id="page_74">{74}</a></span> beginnings, the -primary problem of liberty and civilisation. It is the fact that men -actually lose variety by complexity. We have not solved the problem -properly any more than they did; but it vulgarises the human dignity of -the problem itself to suggest that even tyranny has no motive save in -tribal terror. And just as the Egyptian example refutes the fallacy -about despotism and civilisation, so does the Babylonian example refute -the fallacy about civilisation and barbarism. Babylon also we first hear -of when it is already civilised; for the simple reason that we cannot -hear of anything until it is educated enough to talk. It talks to us in -what is called cuneiform; that strange and stiff triangular symbolism -that contrasts with the picturesque alphabet of Egypt. However -relatively rigid Egyptian art may be, there is always something -different from the Babylonian spirit which was too rigid to have any -art. There is always a living grace in the lines of the lotus and -something of rapidity as well as rigidity in the movement of the arrows -and the birds. Perhaps there is something of the restrained but living -curve of the river, which makes us in talking of the serpent of old Nile -almost think of the Nile as a serpent. Babylon was a civilisation of -diagrams rather than of drawings. Mr. W. B. Yeats, who has a historical -imagination to match his mythological imagination (and indeed the former -is impossible without the latter), wrote truly of the men who watched -the stars ‘from their pedantic Babylon.’ The cuneiform was cut upon -bricks, of which all their architecture was built up; the bricks were of -baked mud, and perhaps the material had something in it forbidding the -sense of form to develop in sculpture or relief. Theirs was a static but -a scientific civilisation, far advanced in the machinery of life and in -some ways highly modern. It is said that they had much of the modern -cult of the higher spinsterhood and recognised an official class of -independent working<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_75" id="page_75">{75}</a></span> women. There is perhaps something in that mighty -stronghold of hardened mud that suggests the utilitarian activity of a -huge hive. But though it was huge it was human; we see many of the same -social problems as in ancient Egypt or modern England; and whatever its -evils this also was one of the earliest masterpieces of man. It stood, -of course, in the triangle formed by the almost legendary rivers of -Tigris and Euphrates, and the vast agriculture of its empire, on which -its towns depended, was perfected by a highly scientific system of -canals. It had by tradition a high intellectual life, though rather -philosophic than artistic; and there preside over its primal foundation -those figures who have come to stand for the star-gazing wisdom of -antiquity; the teachers of Abraham; the Chaldees.</p> - -<p>Against this solid society, as against some vast bare wall of brick, -there surged age after age the nameless armies of the Nomads. They came -out of the deserts where the nomadic life had been lived from the -beginning and where it is still lived to-day. It is needless to dwell on -the nature of that life; it was obvious enough and even easy enough to -follow a herd or a flock which generally found its own grazing-ground -and to live on the milk or meat it provided. Nor is there any reason to -doubt that this habit of life could give almost every human thing except -a home. Many such shepherds or herdsmen may have talked in the earliest -times of all the truths and enigmas of the Book of Job; and of these -were Abraham and his children, who have given to the modern world for an -endless enigma the almost monomaniac monotheism of the Jews. But they -were a wild people without comprehension of complex social organisation; -and a spirit like the wind within them made them wage war on it again -and again. The history of Babylonia is largely the history of its -defence against the desert hordes; who came on at intervals of a century -or two and generally retreated<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_76" id="page_76">{76}</a></span> as they came. Some say that an admixture -of nomad invasion built at Nineveh the arrogant kingdom of the -Assyrians, who carved great monsters upon their temples, bearded bulls -with wings like cherubim, and who sent forth many military conquerors -who stamped the world as if with such colossal hooves. Assyria was an -imperial interlude; but it was an interlude. The main story of all that -land is the war between the wandering peoples and the state that was -truly static. Presumably in prehistoric times, and certainly in historic -times, those wanderers went westward to waste whatever they could find. -The last time they came they found Babylon vanished; but that was in -historic times and the name of their leader was Mahomet.</p> - -<p>Now it is worth while to pause upon that story because, as has been -suggested, it directly contradicts the impression still current that -nomadism is merely a prehistoric thing and social settlement a -comparatively recent thing. There is nothing to show that the -Babylonians had ever wandered; there is very little to show that the -tribes of the desert ever settled down. Indeed it is probable that this -notion of a nomadic stage followed by a static stage has already been -abandoned by the sincere and genuine scholars to whose researches we all -owe so much. But I am not at issue in this book with sincere and genuine -scholars, but with a vast and vague public opinion which has been -prematurely spread from certain imperfect investigations, and which has -made fashionable a false notion of the whole history of humanity. It is -the whole vague notion that a monkey evolved into a man and in the same -way a barbarian evolved into a civilised man, and therefore at every -stage we have to look back to barbarism and forward to civilisation. -Unfortunately this notion is in a double sense entirely in the air. It -is an atmosphere in which men live rather than a thesis which they -defend. Men in that mood are more easily answered by objects<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_77" id="page_77">{77}</a></span> than by -theories; and it will be well if any one tempted to make that -assumption, in some trivial turn of talk or writing, can be checked for -a moment by shutting his eyes and seeing for an instant, vast and -vaguely crowded, like a populous precipice, the wonder of the Babylonian -wall.</p> - -<p>One fact does certainly fall across us like its shadow. Our glimpses of -both these early empires show that the first domestic relation had been -complicated by something which was less human, but was often regarded as -equally domestic. The dark giant called Slavery had been called up like -a genii and was labouring on gigantic works of brick and stone. Here -again we must not too easily assume that what was backward was barbaric; -in the matter of manumission the earlier servitude seems in some ways -more liberal than the later; perhaps more liberal than the servitude of -the future. To insure food for humanity by forcing part of it to work -was after all a very human expedient; which is why it will probably be -tried again. But in one sense there is a significance in the old -slavery. It stands for one fundamental fact about all antiquity before -Christ; something to be assumed from first to last. It is the -insignificance of the individual before the State. It was as true of the -most democratic City State in Hellas as of any despotism in Babylon. It -is one of the signs of this spirit that a whole class of individuals -could be insignificant or even invisible. It must be normal because it -was needed for what would now be called ‘social service.’ Somebody said, -‘The Man is nothing and the Work is all,’ meaning it for a breezy -Carlylean commonplace. It was the sinister motto of the heathen Servile -State. In that sense there is truth in the traditional vision of vast -pillars and pyramids going up under those everlasting skies for ever, by -the labour of numberless and nameless men, toiling like ants and dying -like flies, wiped out by the work of their own hands.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_78" id="page_78">{78}</a></span></p> - -<p>But there are two other reasons for beginning with the two fixed points -of Egypt and Babylon. For one thing they are fixed in tradition as the -types of antiquity; and history without tradition is dead. Babylon is -still the burden of a nursery rhyme, and Egypt (with its enormous -population of princesses awaiting reincarnation) is still the topic of -an unnecessary number of novels. But a tradition is generally a truth; -so long as the tradition is sufficiently popular; even if it is almost -vulgar. And there is a significance in this Babylonian and Egyptian -element in nursery rhymes and novels; even the newspapers, normally so -much behind the times, have already got as far as the reign of -Tutankhamen. The first reason is full of the common sense of popular -legend; it is the simple fact that we do know more of these traditional -things than of other contemporary things; and that we always did. All -travellers from Herodotus to Lord Carnarvon follow this route. -Scientific speculations of to-day do indeed spread out a map of the -whole primitive world, with streams of racial emigration or admixture -marked in dotted lines everywhere; over spaces which the unscientific -medieval map-maker would have been content to call ‘terra incognita,’ if -he did not fill the inviting blank with a picture of a dragon, to -indicate the probable reception given to pilgrims. But these -speculations are only speculations at the best; and at the worst the -dotted lines can be far more fabulous than the dragon.</p> - -<p>There is unfortunately one fallacy here into which it is very easy for -men to fall, even those who are most intelligent and perhaps especially -those who are most imaginative. It is the fallacy of supposing that -because an idea is greater in the sense of larger, therefore it is -greater in the sense of more fundamental and fixed and certain. If a man -lives alone in a straw hut in the middle of Thibet, he may be told that -he is living in the Chinese Empire; and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_79" id="page_79">{79}</a></span> Chinese Empire is certainly -a splendid and spacious and impressive thing. Or alternatively he may be -told that he is living in the British Empire, and be duly impressed. But -the curious thing is that in certain mental states he can feel much more -certain about the Chinese Empire that he cannot see than about the straw -hut that he can see. He has some strange magical juggle in his mind, by -which his argument begins with the empire though his experience begins -with the hut. Sometimes he goes mad and appears to be proving that a -straw hut cannot exist in the domains of the Dragon Throne; that it is -impossible for such a civilisation as he enjoys to contain such a hovel -as he inhabits. But his insanity arises from the intellectual slip of -supposing that because China is a large and all-embracing hypothesis, -therefore it is something more than a hypothesis. Now modern people are -perpetually arguing in this way; and they extend it to things much less -real and certain than the Chinese Empire. They seem to forget, for -instance, that a man is not even certain of the Solar System as he is -certain of the South Downs. The Solar System is a deduction, and -doubtless a true deduction; but the point is that it is a very vast and -far-reaching deduction, and therefore he forgets that it is a deduction -at all and treats it as a first principle. He <i>might</i> discover that the -whole calculation is a miscalculation; and the sun and stars and street -lamps would look exactly the same. But he has forgotten that it is a -calculation, and is almost ready to contradict the sun if it does not -fit into the Solar System. If this is a fallacy even in the case of -facts pretty well ascertained, such as the Solar System and the Chinese -Empire, it is an even more devastating fallacy in connection with -theories and other things that are not really ascertained at all. Thus -history, especially prehistoric history, has a horrible habit of -beginning with certain generalisations about races. I will not describe -the disorder<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_80" id="page_80">{80}</a></span> and misery this inversion has produced in modern politics. -Because the race is vaguely supposed to have produced the nation, men -talk as if the nation were something vaguer than the race. Because they -have themselves invented a reason to explain a result, they almost deny -the result in order to justify the reason. They first treat a Celt as an -axiom and then treat an Irishman as an inference. And then they are -surprised that a great fighting, roaring Irishman is angry at being -treated as an inference. They cannot see that the Irish are Irish -whether or no they are Celtic, whether or no there ever were any Celts. -And what misleads them once more is the <i>size</i> of the theory; the sense -that the fancy is bigger than the fact. A great scattered Celtic race is -supposed to contain the Irish, so of course the Irish must depend for -their very existence upon it. The same confusion, of course, has -eliminated the English and the Germans by swamping them in the Teutonic -race; and some tried to prove from the races being at one that the -nations could not be at war. But I only give these vulgar and hackneyed -examples in passing, as more familiar examples of the fallacy; the -matter at issue here is not its application to these modern things but -rather to the most ancient things. But the more remote and unrecorded -was the racial problem, the more fixed was this curious inverted -certainty in the Victorian man of science. To this day it gives a man of -those scientific traditions the same sort of shock to question these -things, which were only the last inferences when he turned them into -first principles. He is still more certain that he is an Aryan even than -that he is an Anglo-Saxon, just as he is more certain that he is an -Anglo-Saxon than that he is an Englishman. He has never really -discovered that he is a European. But he has never doubted that he is an -Indo-European. These Victorian theories have shifted a great deal in -their shape and scope; but this habit of a rapid hardening of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_81" id="page_81">{81}</a></span> -hypothesis into a theory, and of a theory into an assumption, has hardly -yet gone out of fashion. People cannot easily get rid of the mental -confusion of feeling that the foundations of history must surely be -secure; that the first steps must be safe; that the biggest -generalisation must be obvious. But though the contradiction may seem to -them a paradox, this is the very contrary of the truth. It is the large -thing that is secret and invisible; it is the small thing that is -evident and enormous.</p> - -<p>Every race on the face of the earth has been the subject of these -speculations, and it is impossible even to suggest an outline of the -subject. But if we take the European race alone, its history, or rather -its prehistory, has undergone many retrospective revolutions in the -short period of my own lifetime. It used to be called the Caucasian -race; and I read in childhood an account of its collision with the -Mongolian race; it was written by Bret Harte and opened with the query, -‘Or is the Caucasian played out?’ Apparently the Caucasian was played -out, for in a very short time he had been turned into the Indo-European -man; sometimes, I regret to say, proudly presented as the Indo-Germanic -man. It seems that the Hindu and the German have similar words for -mother or father; there were other similarities between Sanskrit and -various Western tongues; and with that all superficial differences -between a Hindu and a German seemed suddenly to disappear. Generally -this composite person was more conveniently described as the Aryan, and -the really important point was that he had marched westward out of those -high lands of India where fragments of his language could still be -found. When I read this as a child, I had the fancy that after all the -Aryan need not have marched westward and left his language behind him; -he might also have marched eastward and taken his language with him. If -I were to read it now, I should content myself with confessing my<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_82" id="page_82">{82}</a></span> -ignorance of the whole matter. But as a matter of fact I have great -difficulty in reading it now, because it is not being written now. It -looks as if the Aryan is also played out. Anyhow he has not merely -changed his name but changed his address; his starting-place and his -route of travel. One new theory maintains that our race did not come to -its present home from the East but from the South. Some say the -Europeans did not come from Asia but from Africa. Some have even had the -wild idea that the Europeans came from Europe; or rather that they never -left it.</p> - -<p>Then there is a certain amount of evidence of a more or less prehistoric -pressure from the North, such as that which seems to have brought the -Greeks to inherit the Cretan culture and so often brought the Gauls over -the hills into the fields of Italy. But I merely mention this example of -European ethnology to point out that the learned have pretty well boxed -the compass by this time; and that I, who am not one of the learned, -cannot pretend for a moment to decide where such doctors disagree. But I -can use my own common sense, and I sometimes fancy that theirs is a -little rusty from want of use. The first act of common sense is to -recognise the difference between a cloud and a mountain. And I will -affirm that nobody knows any of these things, in the sense that we all -know of the existence of the Pyramids of Egypt.</p> - -<p>The truth, it may be repeated, is that what we really see, as distinct -from what we may reasonably guess, in this earliest phase of history is -darkness covering the earth and great darkness the peoples, with a light -or two gleaming here and there on chance patches of humanity; and that -two of these flames do burn upon two of these tall primeval towns; upon -the high terraces of Babylon and the huge pyramids of the Nile. There -are indeed other ancient lights, or lights that may be conjectured to be -very ancient,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_83" id="page_83">{83}</a></span> in very remote parts of that vast wilderness of night. -Far away to the East there is a high civilisation of vast antiquity in -China; there are the remains of civilisations in Mexico and South -America and other places, some of them apparently so high in -civilisation as to have reached the most refined forms of devil-worship. -But the difference lies in the element of tradition; the tradition of -these lost cultures has been broken off, and though the tradition of -China still lives, it is doubtful whether we know anything about it. -Moreover, a man trying to measure the Chinese antiquity has to use -Chinese traditions of measurement; and he has a strange sensation of -having passed into another world under other laws of time and space. -Time is telescoped outwards, and centuries assume the slow and stiff -movement of aeons; the white man trying to see it as the yellow man -sees, feels as if his head were turning round and wonders wildly whether -it is growing a pigtail. Anyhow he cannot take in a scientific sense -that queer perspective that leads up to the primeval pagoda of the first -of the Sons of Heaven. He is in the real antipodes; the only true -alternative world to Christendom; and he is after a fashion walking -upside down. I have spoken of the medieval map-maker and his dragon; but -what medieval traveller, however much interested in monsters, would -expect to find a country where a dragon is a benevolent and amiable -being? Of the more serious side of Chinese tradition something will be -said in another connection; but here I am only talking of tradition and -the test of antiquity. And I only mention China as an antiquity that is -not for us reached by a bridge of tradition; and Babylon and Egypt as -antiquities that are. Herodotus is a human being, in a sense in which a -Chinaman in a billycock hat, sitting opposite to us in a London -tea-shop, is hardly human. We feel as if we knew what David and Isaiah -felt like, in a way in which we never were quite certain what<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_84" id="page_84">{84}</a></span> Li Hung -Chang felt like. The very sins that snatched away Helen or Bathsheba -have passed into a proverb of private human weakness, of pathos and even -of pardon. The very virtues of the Chinaman have about them something -terrifying. This is the difference made by the destruction or -preservation of a continuous historical inheritance; as from ancient -Egypt to modern Europe. But when we ask what was that world that we -inherit, and why those particular people and places seem to belong to -it, we are led to the central fact of civilised history.</p> - -<p>That centre was the Mediterranean; which was not so much a piece of -water as a world. But it was a world with something of the character of -such a water; for it became more and more a place of unification in -which the streams of strange and very diverse cultures met. The Nile and -the Tiber alike flow into the Mediterranean; so did the Egyptian and the -Etrurian alike contribute to a Mediterranean civilisation. The glamour -of the great sea spread indeed very far inland, and the unity was felt -among the Arabs alone in the deserts and the Gauls beyond the northern -hills. But the gradual building up of a common culture running round all -the coasts of this inner sea is the main business of antiquity. As will -be seen, it was sometimes a bad business as well as a good business. In -that <i>orbis terrarum</i> or circle of lands there were the extremes of evil -and of piety, there were contrasted races and still more contrasted -religions. It was the scene of an endless struggle between Asia and -Europe from the flight of the Persian ships at Salamis to the flight of -the Turkish ships at Lepanto. It was the scene, as will be more -especially suggested later, of a supreme spiritual struggle between the -two types of paganism, confronting each other in the Latin and the -Phoenician cities; in the Roman forum and the Punic mart. It was the -world of war and peace, the world of good and evil, the world of all -that matters most; with all<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_85" id="page_85">{85}</a></span> respect to the Aztecs and the Mongols of -the Far East, they did not matter as the Mediterranean tradition -mattered and still matters. Between it and the Far East there were, of -course, interesting cults and conquests of various kinds, more or less -in touch with it, and in proportion as they were so intelligible also to -us. The Persians came riding in to make an end of Babylon; and we are -told in a Greek story how these barbarians learned to draw the bow and -tell the truth. Alexander the great Greek marched with his Macedonians -into the sunrise, and brought back strange birds coloured like the -sunrise clouds and strange flowers and jewels from the gardens and -treasuries of nameless kings. Islam went eastward into that world and -made it partly imaginable to us; precisely because Islam itself was born -in that circle of lands that fringed our own ancient and ancestral sea. -In the Middle Ages the empire of the Moguls increased its majesty -without losing its mystery; the Tartars conquered China and the Chinese -apparently took very little notice of them. All these things are -interesting in themselves; but it is impossible to shift the centre of -gravity to the inland spaces of Asia from the inland sea of Europe. When -all is said, if there were nothing in the world but what was said and -done and written and built in the lands lying round the Mediterranean, -it would still be in all the most vital and valuable things the world in -which we live. When that southern culture spread to the north-west it -produced many very wonderful things; of which doubtless we ourselves are -the most wonderful. When it spread thence to colonies and new countries, -it was still the same culture so long as it was culture at all. But -round that little sea like a lake were the things themselves, apart from -all extensions and echoes and commentaries on the things; the Republic -and the Church; the Bible and the heroic epics; Islam and Israel and the -memories of the lost empires; Aristotle and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_86" id="page_86">{86}</a></span> measure of all things. -It is because the first light upon <i>this</i> world is really light, the -daylight in which we are still walking to-day, and not merely the -doubtful visitation of strange stars, that I have begun here with noting -where that light first falls on the towered cities of the eastern -Mediterranean.</p> - -<p>But though Babylon and Egypt have thus a sort of first claim, in the -very fact of being familiar and traditional, fascinating riddles to us -but also fascinating riddles to our fathers, we must not imagine that -they were the only old civilisations on the southern sea; or that all -the civilisation was merely Sumerian or Semitic or Coptic, still less -merely Asiatic or African. Real research is more and more exalting the -ancient civilisation of Europe and especially of what we may still -vaguely call the Greeks. It must be understood in the sense that there -were Greeks before the Greeks, as in so many of their mythologies there -were gods before the gods. The island of Crete was the centre of the -civilisation now called Minoan, after the Minos who lingered in ancient -legend and whose labyrinth was actually discovered by modern archeology. -This elaborate European society, with its harbours and its drainage and -its domestic machinery, seems to have gone down before some invasion of -its northern neighbours, who made or inherited the Hellas we know in -history. But that earlier period did not pass till it had given to the -world gifts so great that the world has ever since been striving in vain -to repay them, if only by plagiarism.</p> - -<p>Somewhere along the Ionian coast opposite Crete and the islands was a -town of some sort, probably of the sort that we should call a village or -hamlet with a wall. It was called Ilion but it came to be called Troy, -and the name will never perish from the earth. A poet who may have been -a beggar and a balladmonger, who may have been unable to read and write, -and was described by tradition as blind, com<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_87" id="page_87">{87}</a></span>posed a poem about the -Greeks going to war with this town to recover the most beautiful woman -in the world. That the most beautiful woman in the world lived in that -one little town sounds like a legend; that the most beautiful poem in -the world was written by somebody who knew of nothing larger than such -little towns is a historical fact. It is said that the poem came at the -end of the period; that the primitive culture brought it forth in its -decay; in which case one would like to have seen that culture in its -prime. But anyhow it is true that this, which is our first poem, might -very well be our last poem too. It might well be the last word as well -as the first word spoken by man about his mortal lot, as seen by merely -mortal vision. If the world becomes pagan and perishes, the last man -left alive would do well to quote the Iliad and die.</p> - -<p>But in this one great human revelation of antiquity there is another -element of great historical importance; which has hardly I think been -given its proper place in history. The poet has so conceived the poem -that his sympathies apparently, and those of his reader certainly, are -on the side of the vanquished rather than of the victor. And this is a -sentiment which increases in the poetical tradition even as the poetical -origin itself recedes. Achilles had some status as a sort of demigod in -pagan times; but he disappears altogether in later times. But Hector -grows greater as the ages pass; and it is his name that is the name of a -Knight of the Round Table and his sword that legend puts into the hand -of Roland, laying about him with the weapon of the defeated Hector in -the last ruin and splendour of his own defeat. The name anticipates all -the defeats through which our race and religion were to pass; that -survival of a hundred defeats that is its triumph.</p> - -<p>The tale of the end of Troy shall have no ending; for it is lifted up -for ever into living echoes, immortal as our hopelessness and our hope. -Troy standing<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_88" id="page_88">{88}</a></span> was a small thing that may have stood nameless for ages. -But Troy falling has been caught up in a flame and suspended in an -immortal instant of annihilation; and because it was destroyed with fire -the fire shall never be destroyed. And as with the city so with the -hero; traced in archaic lines in that primeval twilight is found the -first figure of the Knight. There is a prophetic coincidence in his -title; we have spoken of the word chivalry and how it seems to mingle -the horseman with the horse. It is almost anticipated ages before in the -thunder of the Homeric hexameter, and that long leaping word with which -the Iliad ends. It is that very unity for which we can find no name but -the holy centaur of chivalry. But there are other reasons for giving in -this glimpse of antiquity the flame upon the sacred town. The sanctity -of such towns ran like a fire round the coasts and islands of the -northern Mediterranean; the high-fenced hamlet for which heroes died. -From the smallness of the city came the greatness of the citizen. Hellas -with her hundred statues produced nothing statelier than that walking -statue; the ideal of the self-commanding man. Hellas of the hundred -statues was one legend and literature; and all that labyrinth of little -walled nations resounded with the lament of Troy.</p> - -<p>A later legend, an afterthought but not an accident, said that -stragglers from Troy founded a republic on the Italian shore. It was -true in spirit that republican virtue had such a root. A mystery of -honour, that was not born of Babylon or the Egyptian pride, there shone -like the shield of Hector, defying Asia and Africa; till the light of a -new day was loosened, with the rushing of the eagles and the coming of -the name; the name that came like a thunderclap, when the world woke to -Rome.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_89" id="page_89">{89}</a></span></p> - -<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IV-a" id="CHAPTER_IV-a"></a>CHAPTER IV<br /><br /> -GOD AND COMPARATIVE RELIGION</h3> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">I was</span> once escorted over the Roman foundations of an ancient British -city by a professor, who said something that seems to me a satire on a -good many other professors. Possibly the professor saw the joke, though -he maintained an iron gravity, and may or may not have realised that it -was a joke against a great deal of what is called comparative religion. -I pointed out a sculpture of the head of the sun with the usual halo of -rays, but with the difference that the face in the disc, instead of -being boyish like Apollo, was bearded like Neptune or Jupiter. ‘Yes,’ he -said with a certain delicate exactitude, ‘that is supposed to represent -the local god Sul. The best authorities identify Sul with Minerva; but -this has been held to show that the identification is not complete.’</p> - -<p>That is what we call a powerful understatement. The modern world is -madder than any satires on it; long ago Mr. Belloc made his burlesque -don say that a bust of Ariadne had been proved by modern research to be -a Silenus. But that is not better than the real appearance of Minerva as -the Bearded Woman of Mr. Barnum. Only both of them are very like many -identifications by ‘the best authorities’ on comparative religion; and -when Catholic creeds are identified with various wild myths, I do not -laugh or curse or misbehave myself; I confine myself decorously to -saying that the identification is not complete.</p> - -<p>In the days of my youth the Religion of Humanity was a term commonly -applied to Comtism, the theory<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_90" id="page_90">{90}</a></span> of certain rationalists who worshipped -corporate mankind as a Supreme Being. Even in the days of my youth I -remarked that there was something slightly odd about despising and -dismissing the doctrine of the Trinity as a mystical and even maniacal -contradiction; and then asking us to adore a deity who is a hundred -million persons in one God, neither confounding the persons nor dividing -the substance.</p> - -<p>But there is another entity, more or less definable and much more -imaginable than the many-headed and monstrous idol of mankind. And it -has a much better right to be called, in a reasonable sense, the -religion of humanity. Man is not indeed the idol; but man is almost -everywhere the idolator. And these multitudinous idolatries of mankind -have something about them in many ways more human and sympathetic than -modern metaphysical abstractions. If an Asiatic god has three heads and -seven arms, there is at least in it an idea of material incarnation -bringing an unknown power nearer to us and not farther away. But if our -friends Brown, Jones, and Robinson, when out for a Sunday walk, were -transformed and amalgamated into an Asiatic idol before our eyes, they -would surely seem farther away. If the arms of Brown and the legs of -Robinson waved from the same composite body, they would seem to be -waving something of a sad farewell. If the heads of all three gentlemen -appeared smiling on the same neck, we should hesitate even by what name -to address our new and somewhat abnormal friend. In the many-headed and -many-handed Oriental idol there is a certain sense of mysteries becoming -at least partly intelligible; of formless forces of nature taking some -dark but material form, but though this may be true of the multiform god -it is not so of the multiform man. The human beings become less human by -becoming less separate; we might say less human in being less lonely. -The human beings become less<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_91" id="page_91">{91}</a></span> intelligible as they become less isolated; -we might say with strict truth that the closer they are to us the -farther they are away. An Ethical Hymn-book of this humanitarian sort of -religion was carefully selected and expurgated on the principle of -preserving anything human and eliminating anything divine. One -consequence was that a hymn appeared in the amended form of ‘Nearer -Mankind to Thee, Nearer to Thee.’ It always suggested to me the -sensations of a strap-hanger during a crush on the Tube. But it is -strange and wonderful how far away the souls of men can seem, when their -bodies are so near as all that.</p> - -<p>The human unity with which I deal here is not to be confounded with this -modern industrial monotony and herding, which is rather a congestion -than a communion. It is a thing to which human groups left to -themselves, and even human individuals left to themselves, have -everywhere tended by an instinct that may truly be called human. Like -all healthy human things, it has varied very much within the limits of a -general character; for that is characteristic of everything belonging to -that ancient land of liberty that lies before and around the servile -industrial town. Industrialism actually boasts that its products are all -of one pattern; that men in Jamaica or Japan can break the same seal and -drink the same bad whisky, that a man at the North Pole and another at -the South might recognise the same optimistic label on the same dubious -tinned salmon. But wine, the gift of gods to men, can vary with every -valley and every vineyard, can turn into a hundred wines without any -wine once reminding us of whisky; and cheeses can change from county to -county without forgetting the difference between chalk and cheese. When -I am speaking of this thing, therefore, I am speaking of something that -doubtless includes very wide differences; nevertheless I will here -maintain that it is one thing. I will maintain<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_92" id="page_92">{92}</a></span> that most of the modern -botheration comes from not realising that it is really one thing. I will -advance the thesis that before all talk about comparative religion and -the separate religious founders of the world, the first essential is to -recognise this thing as a whole, as a thing almost native and normal to -the great fellowship that we call mankind. This thing is Paganism; and I -propose to show in these pages that it is the one real rival to the -Church of Christ.</p> - -<p>Comparative religion is very comparative indeed. That is, it is so much -a matter of degree and distance and difference that it is only -comparatively successful when it tries to compare. When we come to look -at it closely we find it comparing things that are really quite -incomparable. We are accustomed to see a table or catalogue of the -world’s great religions in parallel columns, until we fancy they are -really parallel. We are accustomed to see the names of the great -religious founders all in a row: Christ; Mahomet; Buddha; Confucius. But -in truth this is only a trick; another of these optical illusions by -which any objects may be put into a particular relation by shifting to a -particular point of sight. Those religions and religious founders, or -rather those whom we choose to lump together as religions and religious -founders, do not really show any common character. The illusion is -partly produced by Islam coming immediately after Christianity in the -list; as Islam did come after Christianity and was largely an imitation -of Christianity. But the other eastern religions, or what we call -religions, not only do not resemble the Church but do not resemble each -other. When we come to Confucianism at the end of the list, we come to -something in a totally different world of thought. To compare the -Christian and Confucian religions is like comparing a theist with an -English squire or asking whether a man is a believer in immortality or a -hundred-per-cent American.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_93" id="page_93">{93}</a></span> Confucianism may be a civilisation but it is -not a religion.</p> - -<p>In truth the Church is too unique to prove herself unique. For most -popular and easy proof is by parallel; and here there is no parallel. It -is not easy, therefore, to expose the fallacy by which a false -classification is created to swamp a unique thing, when it really is a -unique thing. As there is nowhere else exactly the same fact, so there -is nowhere else exactly the same fallacy. But I will take the nearest -thing I can find to such a solitary social phenomenon, in order to show -how it is thus swamped and assimilated. I imagine most of us would agree -that there is something unusual and unique about the position of the -Jews. There is nothing that is quite in the same sense an international -nation; an ancient culture scattered in different countries but still -distinct and indestructible. Now this business is like an attempt to -make a list of nomadic nations in order to soften the strange solitude -of the Jew. It would be easy enough to do it, by the same process of -putting a plausible approximation first, and then tailing off into -totally different things thrown in somehow to make up the list. Thus in -the new list of nomadic nations the Jews would be followed by the -Gypsies; who at least are really nomadic if they are not really -national. Then the professor of the new science of Comparative Nomadics -could pass easily on to something different; even if it was very -different. He could remark on the wandering adventure of the English who -had scattered their colonies over so many seas; and call <i>them</i> nomads. -It is quite true that a great many Englishmen seem to be strangely -restless in England. It is quite true that not all of them have left -their country for their country’s good. The moment we mention the -wandering empire of the English, we must add the strange exiled empire -of the Irish. For it is a curious fact, to be noted in our imperial -literature, that the same ubiquity and unrest which is a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_94" id="page_94">{94}</a></span> proof of -English enterprise and triumph is a proof of Irish futility and failure. -Then the professor of Nomadism would look round thoughtfully and -remember that there was great talk recently of German waiters, German -barbers, German clerks, Germans naturalising themselves in England and -the United States and the South American republics. The Germans would go -down as the fifth nomadic race; the words Wanderlust and Folk-Wandering -would come in very useful here. For there really have been historians -who explained the Crusades by suggesting that the Germans were found -wandering (as the police say) in what happened to be the neighbourhood -of Palestine. Then the professor, feeling he was now near the end, would -make a last leap in desperation. He would recall the fact that the -French Army has captured nearly every capital in Europe, that it marched -across countless conquered lands under Charlemagne or Napoleon; and -<i>that</i> would be wanderlust, and <i>that</i> would be the note of a nomadic -race. Thus he would have his six nomadic nations all compact and -complete, and would feel that the Jew was no longer a sort of mysterious -and even mystical exception. But people with more common sense would -probably realise that he had only extended nomadism by extending the -meaning of nomadism; and that he had extended that until it really had -no meaning at all. It is quite true that the French soldier has made -some of the finest marches in all military history. But it is equally -true, and far more self-evident, that if the French peasant is not a -rooted reality there is no such thing as a rooted reality in the world; -or in other words, if he is a nomad there is nobody who is not a nomad.</p> - -<p>Now that is the sort of trick that has been tried in the case of -comparative religion and the world’s religious founders all standing -respectably in a row. It seeks to classify Jesus as the other would -classify Jews, by inventing a new class for the purpose and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_95" id="page_95">{95}</a></span> filling up -the rest of it with stop-gaps and second-rate copies. I do not mean that -these other things are not often great things in their own real -character and class. Confucianism and Buddhism are great things, but it -is not true to call them Churches; just as the French and English are -great peoples, but it is nonsense to call them nomads. There are some -points of resemblance between Christendom and its imitation in Islam; -for that matter there are some points of resemblance between Jews and -Gypsies. But after that the lists are made up of anything that comes to -hand; of anything that can be put in the same catalogue without being in -the same category.</p> - -<p>In this sketch of religious history, with all decent deference to men -much more learned than myself, I propose to cut across and disregard -this modern method of classification, which I feel sure has falsified -the facts of history. I shall here submit an alternative classification -of religion or religions, which I believe would be found to cover all -the facts and, what is quite as important here, all the fancies. Instead -of dividing religion geographically, and as it were vertically, into -Christian, Moslem, Brahmin, Buddhist, and so on, I would divide it -psychologically and in some sense horizontally; into the strata of -spiritual elements and influences that could sometimes exist in the same -country, or even in the same man. Putting the Church apart for the -moment, I should be disposed to divide the natural religion of the mass -of mankind under such headings as these: God; the Gods; the Demons; the -Philosophers. I believe some such classification will help us to sort -out the spiritual experiences of men much more successfully than the -conventional business of comparing religions; and that many famous -figures will naturally fall into their place in this way who are only -forced into their place in the other. As I shall make use of these -titles or terms more than once in narrative and allusion, it will be -well to define at<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_96" id="page_96">{96}</a></span> this stage for what I mean them to stand. And I will -begin with the first, the simplest and the most sublime, in this -chapter.</p> - -<p>In considering the elements of pagan humanity, we must begin by an -attempt to describe the indescribable. Many get over the difficulty of -describing it by the expedient of denying it, or at least ignoring it; -but the whole point of it is that it was something that was never quite -eliminated even when it was ignored. They are obsessed by their -evolutionary monomania that every great thing grows from a seed, or -something smaller than itself. They seem to forget that every seed comes -from a tree, or from something larger than itself. Now there is very -good ground for guessing that religion did not originally come from some -detail that was forgotten because it was too small to be traced. Much -more probably it was an idea that was abandoned because it was too large -to be managed. There is very good reason to suppose that many people did -begin with the simple but overwhelming idea of one God who governs all; -and afterwards fell away into such things as demon-worship almost as a -sort of secret dissipation. Even the test of savage beliefs, of which -the folk-lore students are so fond, is admittedly often found to support -such a view. Some of the very rudest savages, primitive in every sense -in which anthropologists use the word, the Australian aborigines for -instance, are found to have a pure monotheism with a high moral tone. A -missionary was preaching to a very wild tribe of polytheists, who had -told him all their polytheistic tales, and telling them in return of the -existence of the one good God who is a spirit and judges men by -spiritual standards. And there was a sudden buzz of excitement among -these stolid barbarians, as at somebody who was letting out a secret, -and they cried to each other, ‘Atahocan! He is speaking of Atahocan!’</p> - -<p>Probably it was a point of politeness and even<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_97" id="page_97">{97}</a></span> decency among those -polytheists not to speak of Atahocan. The name is not perhaps so much -adapted as some of our own to direct and solemn religious exhortation; -but many other social forces are always covering up and confusing such -simple ideas. Possibly the old god stood for an old morality found -irksome in more expansive moments; possibly intercourse with demons was -more fashionable among the best people, as in the modern fashion of -Spiritualism. Anyhow, there are any number of similar examples. They all -testify to the unmistakable psychology of a thing taken for granted, as -distinct from a thing talked about. There is a striking example in a -tale taken down word for word from a Red Indian in California, which -starts out with hearty legendary and literary relish: ‘The sun is the -father and ruler of the heavens. He is the big chief. The moon is his -wife and the stars are their children’; and so on through a most -ingenious and complicated story, in the middle of which is a sudden -parenthesis saying that sun and moon have to do something because ‘It is -ordered that way by the Great Spirit Who lives above the place of all.’ -That is exactly the attitude of most paganism towards God. He is -something assumed and forgotten and remembered by accident; a habit -possibly not peculiar to pagans. Sometimes the higher deity is -remembered in the higher moral grades and is a sort of mystery. But -always, it has been truly said, the savage is talkative about his -mythology and taciturn about his religion. The Australian savages, -indeed, exhibit a topsyturvydom such as the ancients might have thought -truly worthy of the antipodes. The savage who thinks nothing of tossing -off such a trifle as a tale of the sun and moon being the halves of a -baby chopped in two, or dropping into small-talk about a colossal cosmic -cow milked to make the rain, merely in order to be sociable, will then -retire to secret caverns sealed against women and white men, temples of -terrible initiation where<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_98" id="page_98">{98}</a></span> to the thunder of the bull-roarer and the -dripping of sacrificial blood, the priest whispers the final secrets -known only to the initiate: that honesty is the best policy, that a -little kindness does nobody any harm, that all men are brothers and that -there is but one God, the Father Almighty, maker of all things visible -and invisible.</p> - -<p>In other words, we have here the curiosity of religious history that the -savage seems to be parading all the most repulsive and impossible parts -of his belief and concealing all the most sensible and creditable parts. -But the explanation is that they are not in that sense parts of his -belief; or at least not parts of the same sort of belief. The myths are -merely tall stories, though as tall as the sky, the waterspout, or the -tropic rain. The mysteries are true stories, and are taken secretly that -they may be taken seriously. Indeed it is only too easy to forget that -there is a thrill in theism. A novel in which a number of separate -characters all turned out to be the same character would certainly be a -sensational novel. It is so with the idea that sun and tree and river -are the disguises of one god and not of many. Alas, we also find it only -too easy to take Atahocan for granted. But whether he is allowed to fade -into a truism or preserved as a sensation by being preserved as a -secret, it is clear that he is always either an old truism or an old -tradition. There is nothing to show that he is an improved product of -the mere mythology and everything to show that he preceded it. He is -worshipped by the simplest tribes with no trace of ghosts or -grave-offerings, or any of the complications in which Herbert Spencer -and Grant Allen sought the origin of the simplest of all ideas. Whatever -else there was, there was never any such thing as the Evolution of the -Idea of God. The idea was concealed, was avoided, was almost forgotten, -was even explained away; but it was never evolved. There are not a few -indications of this change in other<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_99" id="page_99">{99}</a></span> places. It is implied, for -instance, in the fact that even polytheism seems often the combination -of several monotheisms. A god will gain only a minor seat on Mount -Olympus, when he had owned earth and heaven and all the stars while he -lived in his own little valley. Like many a small nation melting in a -great empire, he gives up local universality only to come under -universal limitation. The very name of Pan suggests that he became a god -of the wood when he had been a god of the world. The very name of -Jupiter is almost a pagan translation of the words ‘Our Father which art -in heaven.’ As with the Great Father symbolised by the sky, so with the -Great Mother whom we still call Mother Earth. Demeter and Ceres and -Cybele often seem to be almost incapable of taking over the whole -business of godhood, so that men should need no other gods. It seems -reasonably probable that a good many men did have no other gods but one -of these, worshipped as the author of all.</p> - -<p>Over some of the most immense and populous tracts of the world, such as -China, it would seem that the simpler idea of the Great Father has never -been very much complicated with rival cults, though it may have in some -sense ceased to be a cult itself. The best authorities seem to think -that though Confucianism is in one sense agnosticism, it does not -directly contradict the old theism, precisely because it has become a -rather vague theism. It is one in which God is called Heaven, as in the -case of polite persons tempted to swear in drawing-rooms. But Heaven is -still overhead, even if it is very far overhead. We have all the -impression of a simple truth that has receded, until it was remote -without ceasing to be true. And this phrase alone would bring us back to -the same idea even in the pagan mythology of the West. There is surely -something of this very notion of the withdrawal of some higher power in -all those mysterious and very imaginative myths<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_100" id="page_100">{100}</a></span> about the separation of -earth and sky. In a hundred forms we are told that heaven and earth were -once lovers, or were once at one, when some upstart thing, often some -undutiful child, thrust them apart; and the world was built on an abyss; -upon a division and a parting. One of its grossest versions was given by -Greek civilisation in the myth of Uranus and Saturn. One of its most -charming versions was that of some savage people, who say that a little -pepper-plant grew taller and taller and lifted the whole sky like a lid; -a beautiful barbaric vision of daybreak for some of our painters who -love that tropical twilight. Of myths, and the highly mythical -explanations which the moderns offer of myths, something will be said in -another section; for I cannot but think that most mythology is on -another and more superficial plane. But in this primeval vision of the -rending of one world into two there is surely something more of ultimate -ideas. As to what it means, a man will learn far more about it by lying -on his back in a field, and merely looking at the sky, than by reading -all the libraries even of the most learned and valuable folk-lore. He -will know what is meant by saying that the sky ought to be nearer to us -than it is, that perhaps it was once nearer than it is, that it is not a -thing merely alien and abysmal but in some fashion sundered from us and -saying farewell. There will creep across his mind the curious suggestion -that after all, perhaps, the myth-maker was not merely a moon-calf or -village idiot thinking he could cut up the clouds like a cake, but had -in him something more than it is fashionable to attribute to the -Troglodyte; that it is just possible that Thomas Hood was not talking -like a Troglodyte when he said that, as time went on, the tree-tops only -told him he was further off from heaven than when he was a boy. But -anyhow the legend of Uranus the Lord of Heaven dethroned by Saturn the -Time Spirit would mean something to the author of that poem. And it -would<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_101" id="page_101">{101}</a></span> mean, among other things, this banishment of the first -fatherhood. There is the idea of God in the very notion that there were -gods before the gods. There is an idea of greater simplicity in all the -allusions to that more ancient order. The suggestion is supported by the -process of propagation we see in historic times. Gods and demigods and -heroes breed like herrings before our very eyes, and suggest of -themselves that the family may have had one founder; mythology grows -more and more complicated, and the very complication suggests that at -the beginning it was more simple. Even on the external evidence, of the -sort called scientific, there is therefore a very good case for the -suggestion that man began with monotheism before it developed or -degenerated into polytheism. But I am concerned rather with an internal -than an external truth; and, as I have already said, the internal truth -is almost indescribable. We have to speak of something of which it is -the whole point that people did not speak of it; we have not merely to -translate from a strange tongue or speech, but from a strange silence.</p> - -<p>I suspect an immense implication behind all polytheism and paganism. I -suspect we have only a hint of it here and there in these savage creeds -or Greek origins. It is not exactly what we mean by the presence of God; -in a sense it might more truly be called the absence of God. But absence -does not mean non-existence; and a man drinking the toast of absent -friends does not mean that from his life all friendship is absent. It is -a void but it is not a negation; it is something as positive as an empty -chair. It would be an exaggeration to say that the pagan saw higher than -Olympus an empty throne. It would be nearer the truth to take the -gigantic imagery of the Old Testament, in which the prophet saw God from -behind; it was as if some immeasurable presence had turned its back on -the world. Yet<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_102" id="page_102">{102}</a></span> the meaning will again be missed if it is supposed to be -anything so conscious and vivid as the monotheism of Moses and his -people. I do not mean that the pagan peoples were in the least -overpowered by this idea merely because it is overpowering. On the -contrary, it was so large that they all carried it lightly, as we all -carry the load of the sky. Gazing at some detail like a bird or a cloud, -we can all ignore its awful blue background; we can neglect the sky; and -precisely because it bears down upon us with an annihilating force, it -is felt as nothing. A thing of this kind can only be an impression and a -rather subtle impression; but to me it is a very strong impression made -by pagan literature and religion. I repeat that in our special -sacramental sense there is, of course, the absence of the presence of -God. But there is in a very real sense the presence of the absence of -God. We feel it in the unfathomable sadness of pagan poetry; for I doubt -if there was ever in all the marvellous manhood of antiquity a man who -was happy as St. Francis was happy. We feel it in the legend of a Golden -Age and again in the vague implication that the gods themselves are -ultimately related to something else, even when that Unknown God has -faded into a Fate. Above all we feel it in those immortal moments when -the pagan literature seems to return to a more innocent antiquity and -speak with a more direct voice, so that no word is worthy of it except -our own monotheistic monosyllable. We cannot say anything but ‘God’ in a -sentence like that of Socrates bidding farewell to his judges: ‘I go to -die and you remain to live; and God alone knows which of us goes the -better way.’ We can use no other word even for the best moments of -Marcus Aurelius: ‘Can they say dear city of Cecrops, and canst thou not -say dear city of God?’ We can use no other word in that mighty line in -which Virgil spoke to all who suffer with the veritable cry of a -Christian before Christ, in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_103" id="page_103">{103}</a></span> untranslatable: ‘O passi graviora dabit -deus his quoque finem.’</p> - -<p>In short, there is a feeling that there is something higher than the -gods; but because it is higher it is also further away. Not yet could -even Virgil have read the riddle and the paradox of that other divinity, -who is both higher and nearer. For them what was truly divine was very -distant, so distant that they dismissed it more and more from their -minds. It had less and less to do with the mere mythology of which I -shall write later. Yet even in this there was a sort of tacit admission -of its intangible purity, when we consider what most of the mythology is -like. As the Jews would not degrade it by images, so the Greeks did not -degrade it even by imaginations. When the gods were more and more -remembered only by pranks and profligacies, it was relatively a movement -of reverence. It was an act of piety to forget God. In other words, -there is something in the whole tone of the time suggesting that men had -accepted a lower level, and still were half conscious that it was a -lower level. It is hard to find words for these things; yet the one -really just word stands ready. These men were conscious of the Fall, if -they were conscious of nothing else; and the same is true of all heathen -humanity. Those who have fallen may remember the fall, even when they -forget the height. Some such tantalising blank or break in memory is at -the back of all pagan sentiment. There is such a thing as the momentary -power to remember that we forget. And the most ignorant of humanity know -by the very look of earth that they have forgotten heaven. But it -remains true that even for these men there were moments, like the -memories of childhood, when they heard themselves talking with a simpler -language; there were moments when the Roman, like Virgil in the line -already quoted, cut his way with a sword-stroke of song out of the -tangle of the mythologies; the motley mob of gods and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_104" id="page_104">{104}</a></span> goddesses sank -suddenly out of sight and the Sky-Father was alone in the sky.</p> - -<p>This latter example is very relevant to the next step in the process. A -white light as of a lost morning still lingers on the figure of Jupiter, -of Pan, or of the elder Apollo; and it may well be, as already noted, -that each was once a divinity as solitary as Jehovah or Allah. They lost -this lonely universality by a process it is here very necessary to note; -a process of amalgamation very like what was afterwards called -syncretism. The whole pagan world set itself to build a Pantheon. They -admitted more and more gods, gods not only of the Greeks but of the -barbarians; gods not only of Europe but of Asia and Africa. The more the -merrier, though some of the Asian and African ones were not very merry. -They admitted them to equal thrones with their own; sometimes they -identified them with their own. They may have regarded it as an -enrichment of their religious life; but it meant the final loss of all -that we now call religion. It meant that ancient light of simplicity, -that had a single source like the sun, finally fades away in a dazzle of -conflicting lights and colours. God is really sacrificed to the gods; in -a very literal sense of the flippant phrase, they have been too many for -him.</p> - -<p>Polytheism, therefore, was really a sort of pool; in the sense of the -pagans having consented to the pooling of their pagan religions. And -this point is very important in many controversies ancient and modern. -It is regarded as a liberal and enlightened thing to say that the god of -the stranger may be as good as our own; and doubtless the pagans thought -themselves very liberal and enlightened when they agreed to add to the -gods of the city or the hearth some wild and fantastic Dionysus coming -down from the mountains or some shaggy and rustic Pan creeping out of -the woods. But exactly what it lost by these larger ideas is the largest -idea of all. It is the idea<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_105" id="page_105">{105}</a></span> of the fatherhood that makes the whole -world one. And the converse is also true. Doubtless those more -antiquated men of antiquity who clung to their solitary statues and -their single sacred names were regarded as superstitious savages -benighted and left behind. But these superstitious savages were -preserving something that is much more like the cosmic power as -conceived by philosophy, or even as conceived by science. This paradox -by which the rude reactionary was a sort of prophetic progressive has -one consequence very much to the point. In a purely historical sense, -and apart from any other controversies in the same connection, it throws -a light, a single and a steady light, that shines from the beginning on -a little and lonely people. In this paradox, as in some riddle of -religion of which the answer was sealed up for centuries, lies the -mission and the meaning of the Jews.</p> - -<p>It is true in this sense, humanly speaking, that the world owes God to -the Jews. It owes that truth to much that is blamed in the Jews, -possibly to much that is blameable in the Jews. We have already noted -the nomadic position of the Jews amid the other pastoral peoples upon -the fringe of the Babylonian Empire, and something of that strange -erratic course of theirs blazed across the dark territory of extreme -antiquity, as they passed from the seat of Abraham and the shepherd -princes into Egypt and doubled back into the Palestinian hills and held -them against the Philistines from Crete and fell into captivity in -Babylon; and yet again returned to their mountain city by the Zionist -policy of the Persian conquerors; and so continued that amazing romance -of restlessness of which we have not yet seen the end. But through all -their wanderings, and especially through all their early wanderings, -they did indeed carry the fate of the world in that wooden tabernacle, -that held perhaps a featureless symbol and certainly an invisible god. -We may say that one<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_106" id="page_106">{106}</a></span> most essential feature was that it was featureless. -Much as we may prefer that creative liberty which the Christian culture -has declared and by which it has eclipsed even the arts of antiquity, we -must not underrate the determining importance at the time of the Hebrew -inhibition of images. It is a typical example of one of those -limitations that did in fact preserve and perpetuate enlargement, like a -wall built round a wide open space. The God who could not have a statue -remained a spirit. Nor would his statue in any case have had the -disarming dignity and grace of the Greek statues then or the Christian -statues afterwards. He was living in a land of monsters. We shall have -occasion to consider more fully what those monsters were, Moloch and -Dagon and Tanit the terrible goddess. If the deity of Israel had ever -had an image, he would have had a phallic image. By merely giving him a -body they would have brought in all the worst elements of mythology; all -the polygamy of polytheism; the vision of the harem in heaven. This -point about the refusal of art is the first example of the limitations -which are often adversely criticised, only because the critics -themselves are limited. But an even stronger case can be found in the -other criticism offered by the same critics. It is often said with a -sneer that the God of Israel was only a God of Battles, ‘a mere barbaric -Lord of Hosts’ pitted in rivalry against other gods only as their -envious foe. Well it is for the world that he was a God of Battles. Well -it is for us that he was to all the rest only a rival and a foe. In the -ordinary way, it would have been only too easy for them to have achieved -the desolate disaster of conceiving him as a friend. It would have been -only too easy for them to have seen him stretching out his hands in love -and reconciliation, embracing Baal and kissing the painted face of -Astarte, feasting in fellowship with the gods; the last god to sell his -crown of stars for the Soma of the Indian pantheon<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_107" id="page_107">{107}</a></span> or the nectar of -Olympus or the mead of Valhalla. It would have been easy enough for his -worshippers to follow the enlightened course of Syncretism and the -pooling of all the pagan traditions. It is obvious indeed that his -followers were always sliding down this easy slope; and it required the -almost demoniac energy of certain inspired demagogues, who testified to -the divine unity in words that are still like winds of inspiration and -ruin. The more we really understand of the ancient conditions that -contributed to the final culture of the Faith, the more we shall have a -real and even a realistic reverence for the greatness of the Prophets of -Israel. As it was, while the whole world melted into this mass of -confused mythology, this Deity who is called tribal and narrow, -precisely because he was what is called tribal and narrow, preserved the -primary religion of all mankind. He was tribal enough to be universal. -He was as narrow as the universe.</p> - -<p>In a word, there was a popular pagan god called Jupiter-Ammon. There was -never a god called Jehovah-Ammon. There was never a god called -Jehovah-Jupiter. If there had been, there would certainly have been -another called Jehovah-Moloch. Long before the liberal and enlightened -amalgamators had got so far afield as Jupiter, the image of the Lord of -Hosts would have been deformed out of all suggestion of a monotheistic -maker and ruler and would have become an idol far worse than any savage -fetish; for he might have been as civilised as the gods of Tyre and -Carthage. What that civilisation meant we shall consider more fully in -the chapter that follows; when we note how the power of demons nearly -destroyed Europe and even the heathen health of the world. But the -world’s destiny would have been distorted still more fatally if -monotheism had failed in the Mosaic tradition. I hope in a subsequent -section to show that I am not without sympathy with all that health in -the heathen world that made<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_108" id="page_108">{108}</a></span> its fairy-tales and its fanciful romances -of religion. But I hope also to show that these were bound to fail in -the long run; and the world would have been lost if it had been unable -to return to that great original simplicity of a single authority in all -things. That we do preserve something of that primary simplicity, that -poets and philosophers can still indeed in some sense say an Universal -Prayer, that we live in a large and serene world under a sky that -stretches paternally over all the peoples of the earth, that philosophy -and philanthropy are truisms in a religion of reasonable men, all that -we do most truly owe, under heaven, to a secretive and restless nomadic -people; who bestowed on men the supreme and serene blessing of a jealous -God.</p> - -<p>The unique possession was not available or accessible to the pagan -world, because it was also the possession of a jealous people. The Jews -were unpopular, partly because of this narrowness already noted in the -Roman world, partly perhaps because they had already fallen into that -habit of merely handling things for exchange instead of working to make -them with their hands. It was partly also because polytheism had become -a sort of jungle in which solitary monotheism could be lost; but it is -strange to realise how completely it really was lost. Apart from more -disputed matters, there were things in the tradition of Israel which -belong to all humanity now, and might have belonged to all humanity -then. They had one of the colossal corner-stones of the world: the Book -of Job. It obviously stands over against the Iliad and the Greek -tragedies; and even more than they it was an early meeting and parting -of poetry and philosophy in the morning of the world. It is a solemn and -uplifting sight to see those two eternal fools, the optimist and the -pessimist, destroyed in the dawn of time. And the philosophy really -perfects the pagan tragic irony, precisely because it is more -monotheistic and therefore more mystical. Indeed the Book of Job -avowedly only answers mystery with mystery. Job is comforted with -riddles; but<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_109" id="page_109">{109}</a></span> he is comforted. Herein is indeed a type, in the sense of -a prophecy, of things speaking with authority. For when he who doubts -can only say, ‘I do not understand,’ it is true that he who knows can -only reply or repeat, ‘You do not understand.’ And under that rebuke -there is always a sudden hope in the heart; and the sense of something -that would be worth understanding. But this mighty monotheistic poem -remained unremarked by the whole world of antiquity, which was thronged -with polytheistic poetry. It is a sign of the way in which the Jews -stood apart and kept their tradition unshaken and unshared, that they -should have kept a thing like the Book of Job out of the whole -intellectual world of antiquity. It is as if the Egyptians had modestly -concealed the Great Pyramid. But there were other reasons for a -cross-purpose and an impasse, characteristic of the whole of the end of -paganism. After all, the tradition of Israel had only got hold of one -half of the truth, even if we use the popular paradox and call it the -bigger half. I shall try to sketch in the next chapter that love of -locality and of personality that ran through mythology; here it need -only be said that there was a truth in it that could not be left out, -though it were a lighter and less essential truth. The sorrow of Job had -to be joined with the sorrow of Hector; and while the former was the -sorrow of the universe the latter was the sorrow of the city; for Hector -could only stand pointing to heaven as the pillar of holy Troy. When God -speaks out of the whirlwind He may well speak in the wilderness. But the -monotheism of the nomad was not enough for all that varied civilisation -of fields and fences and walled cities and temples and towns; and the -turn of these things also was to come, when the two could be combined in -a more definite and domestic religion. Here and there in all that pagan -crowd could be found a philosopher whose thoughts ran on pure theism; -but he never had, or supposed that he<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_110" id="page_110">{110}</a></span> had, the power to change the -customs of the whole populace. Nor is it easy even in such philosophies -to find a true definition of this deep business of the relation of -polytheism and theism. Perhaps the nearest we can come to striking the -note, or giving the thing a name, is in something far away from all that -civilisation and more remote from Rome than the isolation of Israel. It -is in a saying I once heard from some Hindu tradition; that gods as well -as men are only the dreams of Brahma; and will perish when Brahma wakes. -There is indeed in such an image something of the soul of Asia which is -less sane than the soul of Christendom. We should call it despair, even -if they would call it peace. This note of nihilism can be considered -later in a fuller comparison between Asia and Europe. It is enough to -say here that there is more of disillusion in that idea of a divine -awakening than is implied for us in the passage from mythology to -religion. But the symbol is very subtle and exact in one respect; that -it does suggest the disproportion and even disruption between the very -ideas of mythology and religion; the chasm between the two categories. -It is really the collapse of comparative religion that there is no -comparison between God and the gods. There is no more comparison than -there is between a man and the men who walk about in his dreams. Under -the next heading some attempt will be made to indicate the twilight of -that dream in which the gods walk about like men. But if any one fancies -the contrast of monotheism and polytheism is only a matter of some -people having one god and others a few more, for him it will be far -nearer the truth to plunge into the elephantine extravagance of Brahmin -cosmology; that he may feel a shudder going through the veil of things, -the many-handed creators, and the throned and haloed animals and all the -network of entangled stars and rulers of the night, as the awful eyes of -Brahma open like dawn upon the death of all.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_111" id="page_111">{111}</a></span></p> - -<h3><a name="CHAPTER_V-a" id="CHAPTER_V-a"></a>CHAPTER V<br /><br /> -MAN AND MYTHOLOGIES</h3> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">What</span> are here called the Gods might almost alternatively be called the -Day-Dreams. To compare them to dreams is not to deny that dreams can -come true. To compare them to travellers’ tales is not to deny that they -may be true tales, or at least truthful tales. In truth they are the -sort of tales the traveller tells to himself. All this mythological -business belongs to the poetical part of men. It seems strangely -forgotten nowadays that a myth is a work of imagination and therefore a -work of art. It needs a poet to make it. It needs a poet to criticise -it. There are more poets than non-poets in the world, as is proved by -the popular origin of such legends. But for some reason I have never -heard explained, it is only the minority of unpoetical people who are -allowed to write critical studies of these popular poems. We do not -submit a sonnet to a mathematician or a song to a calculating boy; but -we do indulge the equally fantastic idea that folk-lore can be treated -as a science. Unless these things are appreciated artistically they are -not appreciated at all. When the professor is told by the barbarian that -once there was nothing except a great feathered serpent, unless the -learned man feels a thrill and a half temptation to wish it were true, -he is no judge of such things at all. When he is assured, on the best -Red Indian authority, that a primitive hero carried the sun and moon and -stars in a box, unless he claps his hands and almost kicks his legs as a -child would at such a charming fancy, he knows nothing about the matter. -This test is not<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_112" id="page_112">{112}</a></span> nonsensical; primitive children and barbaric children -do laugh and kick like other children; and we must have a certain -simplicity to repicture the childhood of the world. When Hiawatha was -told by his nurse that a warrior threw his grandmother up to the moon, -he laughed like any English child told by his nurse that a cow jumped -over the moon. The child sees the joke as well as most men, and better -than some scientific men. But the ultimate test even of the fantastic is -the appropriateness of the inappropriate. And the test must appear -merely arbitrary because it is merely artistic. If any student tells me -that the infant Hiawatha only laughed out of respect for the tribal -custom of sacrificing the aged to economical housekeeping, I say he did -not. If any scholar tells me that the cow jumped over the moon only -because a heifer was sacrificed to Diana, I answer that it did not. It -happened because it is obviously the right thing for a cow to jump over -the moon. Mythology is a lost art, one of the few arts that really are -lost; but it is an art. The horned moon and the horned mooncalf make a -harmonious and almost a quiet pattern. And throwing your grandmother -into the sky is not good behaviour; but it is perfectly good taste.</p> - -<p>Thus scientists seldom understand, as artists understand, that one -branch of the beautiful is the ugly. They seldom allow for the -legitimate liberty of the grotesque. And they will dismiss a savage myth -as merely coarse and clumsy and an evidence of degradation, because it -has not all the beauty of the herald Mercury new lighted on a -heaven-kissing hill; when it really has the beauty of the Mock Turtle of -the Mad Hatter. It is the supreme proof of a man being prosaic that he -always insists on poetry being poetical. Sometimes the humour is in the -very subject as well as the style of the fable. The Australian -aborigines, regarded as the rudest of savages, have a story about a -giant frog who had swallowed the sea and all the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_113" id="page_113">{113}</a></span> waters of the world; -and who was only forced to spill them by being made to laugh. All the -animals with all their antics passed before him and, like Queen -Victoria, he was not amused. He collapsed at last before an eel who -stood delicately balanced on the tip of its tail, doubtless with a -rather desperate dignity. Any amount of fine fantastic literature might -be made out of that fable. There is philosophy in that vision of the dry -world before the beatific Deluge of laughter. There is imagination in -the mountainous monster erupting like an aqueous volcano; there is -plenty of fun in the thought of his goggling visage as the pelican or -the penguin passed by. Anyhow the frog laughed; but the folk-lore -student remains grave.</p> - -<p>Moreover, even where the fables are inferior as art, they cannot be -properly judged by science; still less properly judged as science. Some -myths are very crude and queer like the early drawings of children; but -the child is trying to draw. It is none the less an error to treat his -drawing as if it were a diagram, or intended to be a diagram. The -student cannot make a scientific statement about the savage, because the -savage is not making a scientific statement about the world. He is -saying something quite different; what might be called the gossip of the -gods. We may say, if we like, that it is believed before there is time -to examine it. It would be truer to say it is accepted before there is -time to believe it.</p> - -<p>I confess I doubt the whole theory of the dissemination of myths or (as -it commonly is) of one myth. It is true that something in our nature and -conditions makes many stories similar; but each of them may be original. -One man does not borrow the story from the other man, though he may tell -it from the same motive as the other man. It would be easy to apply the -whole argument about legend to literature; and turn it into a vulgar -monomania of plagiarism. I would undertake to trace a notion like that -of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_114" id="page_114">{114}</a></span> Golden Bough through individual modern novels as easily as -through communal and antiquated myths. I would undertake to find -something like a bunch of flowers figuring again and again from the -fatal bouquet of Becky Sharpe to the spray of roses sent by the Princess -of Ruritania. But though these flowers may spring from the same soil, it -is not the same faded flower that is flung from hand to hand. Those -flowers are always fresh.</p> - -<p>The true origin of all the myths has been discovered much too often. -There are too many keys to mythology, as there are too many cryptograms -in Shakespeare. Everything is phallic; everything is totemistic; -everything is seed-time and harvest; everything is ghosts and -grave-offerings; everything is the golden bough of sacrifice; everything -is the sun and moon; everything is everything. Every folk-lore student -who knew a little more than his own monomania, every man of wider -reading and critical culture like Andrew Lang, has practically confessed -that the bewilderment of these things left his brain spinning. Yet the -whole trouble comes from a man trying to look at these stories from the -outside, as if they were scientific objects. He has only to look at them -from the inside, and ask himself how he would begin a story. A story may -start with anything and go anywhere. It may start with a bird without -the bird being a totem; it may start with the sun without being a solar -myth. It is said there are only ten plots in the world; and there will -certainly be common and recurrent elements. Set ten thousand children -talking at once, and telling tarradiddles about what they did in the -wood; and it will not be hard to find parallels suggesting sun-worship -or animal-worship. Some of the stories may be pretty and some silly and -some perhaps dirty; but they can only be judged as stories. In the -modern dialect, they can only be judged aesthetically. It is strange -that aesthetics, or mere feeling, which is now allowed<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_115" id="page_115">{115}</a></span> to usurp where -it has no rights at all, to wreck reason with pragmatism and morals with -anarchy, is apparently not allowed to give a purely aesthetic judgment -on what is obviously a purely aesthetic question. We may be fanciful -about everything except fairy-tales.</p> - -<p>Now the first fact is that the most simple people have the most subtle -ideas. Everybody ought to know that, for everybody has been a child. -Ignorant as a child is, he knows more than he can say and feels not only -atmospheres but fine shades. And in this matter there are several fine -shades. Nobody understands it who has not had what can only be called -the ache of the artist to find some sense and some story in the -beautiful things he sees; his hunger for secrets and his anger at any -tower or tree escaping with its tale untold. He feels that nothing is -perfect unless it is personal. Without that the blind unconscious beauty -of the world stands in its garden like a headless statue. One need only -be a very minor poet to have wrestled with the tower or the tree until -it spoke like a titan or a dryad. It is often said that pagan mythology -was a personification of the powers of nature. The phrase is true in a -sense, but it is very unsatisfactory; because it implies that the forces -are abstractions and the personification is artificial. Myths are not -allegories. Natural powers are not in this case abstractions. It is not -as if there were a God of Gravitation. There may be a genius of the -waterfall; but not of mere falling, even less than of mere water. The -impersonation is not of something impersonal. The point is that the -personality perfects the water with significance. Father Christmas is -not an allegory of snow and holly; he is not merely the stuff called -snow afterwards artificially given a human form, like a snow man. He is -something that gives a new meaning to the white world and the -evergreens; so that snow itself seems to be warm rather than cold. The -test therefore is purely imaginative. But imaginative does not mean -imaginary. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_116" id="page_116">{116}</a></span> does not follow that it is all what the moderns call -subjective, when they mean false. Every true artist does feel, -consciously or unconsciously, that he is touching transcendental truths; -that his images are shadows of things seen through the veil. In other -words, the natural mystic does know that there is something <i>there</i>; -something behind the clouds or within the trees; but he believes that -the pursuit of beauty is the way to find it; that imagination is a sort -of incantation that can call it up.</p> - -<p>Now we do not comprehend this process in ourselves, far less in our most -remote fellow-creatures. And the danger of these things being classified -is that they may seem to be comprehended. A really fine work of -folk-lore, like <i>The Golden Bough</i>, will leave too many readers with the -idea, for instance, that this or that story of a giant’s or wizard’s -heart in a casket or a cave only ‘means’ some stupid and static -superstition called ‘the external soul.’ But we do not know what these -things mean, simply because we do not know what we ourselves mean when -we are moved by them. Suppose somebody in a story says ‘Pluck this -flower and a princess will die in a castle beyond the sea,’ we do not -know why something stirs in the subconsciousness, or why what is -impossible seems also inevitable. Suppose we read ‘And in the hour when -the king extinguished the candle his ships were wrecked far away on the -coast of the Hebrides.’ We do not know why the imagination has accepted -that image before the reason can reject it; or why such correspondences -seem really to correspond to something in the soul. Very deep things in -our nature, some dim sense of the dependence of great things upon small, -some dark suggestion that the things nearest to us stretch far beyond -our power, some sacramental feeling of the magic in material substances, -and many more emotions past finding out, are in an idea like that of the -external soul. The power even in the myths of savages is like the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_117" id="page_117">{117}</a></span> power -in the metaphors of poets. The soul of such a metaphor is often very -emphatically an external soul. The best critics have remarked that in -the best poets the simile is often a picture that seems quite separate -from the text. It is as irrelevant as the remote castle to the flower or -the Hebridean coast to the candle. Shelley compares the skylark to a -young woman in a turret, to a rose embedded in thick foliage, to a -series of things that seem to be about as unlike a skylark in the sky as -anything we can imagine. I suppose the most potent piece of pure magic -in English literature is the much-quoted passage in Keats’s -<i>Nightingale</i> about the casements opening on the perilous foam. And -nobody notices that the image seems to come from nowhere; that it -appears abruptly after some almost equally irrelevant remarks about -Ruth; and that it has nothing in the world to do with the subject of the -poem. If there is one place in the world where nobody could reasonably -expect to find a nightingale, it is on a window-sill at the seaside. But -it is only in the same sense that nobody would expect to find a giant’s -heart in a casket under the sea. Now, it would be very dangerous to -classify the metaphors of the poets. When Shelley says that the cloud -will rise ‘like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,’ it -would be quite possible to call the first a case of the coarse primitive -birth-myth and the second a survival of the ghost-worship which became -ancestor-worship. But it is the wrong way of dealing with a cloud; and -is liable to leave the learned in the condition of Polonius, only too -ready to think it like a weasel, or very like a whale.</p> - -<p>Two facts follow from this psychology of day-dreams, which must be kept -in mind throughout their development in mythologies and even religions. -First, these imaginative impressions are often strictly local. So far -from being abstractions turned into allegories, they are often images -almost concentrated<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_118" id="page_118">{118}</a></span> into idols. The poet feels the mystery of a -particular forest; not of the science of afforestation or the department -of woods and forests. He worships the peak of a particular mountain, not -the abstract idea of altitude. So we find the god is not merely water -but often one special river; he may be the sea because the sea is single -like a stream; the river that runs round the world. Ultimately doubtless -many deities are enlarged into elements; but they are something more -than omnipresent. Apollo does not merely dwell wherever the sun shines; -his home is on the rock of Delphi. Diana is great enough to be in three -places at once, earth and heaven and hell, but greater is Diana of the -Ephesians. This localised feeling has its lowest form in the mere fetish -or talisman, such as millionaires put on their motor-cars. But it can -also harden into something like a high and serious religion, where it is -connected with high and serious duties; into the gods of the city or -even the gods of the hearth.</p> - -<p>The second consequence is this: that in these pagan cults there is every -shade of sincerity—and insincerity. In what sense exactly did an -Athenian really think he had to sacrifice to Pallas Athene? What scholar -is really certain of the answer? In what sense did Dr. Johnson really -think that he had to touch all the posts in the street or that he had to -collect orange-peel? In what sense does a child really think that he -ought to step on every alternate paving-stone? Two things are at least -fairly clear. First, in simpler and less self-conscious times these -forms could become more solid without really becoming more serious. -Day-dreams could be acted in broad daylight, with more liberty of -artistic expression; but still perhaps with something of the light step -of the somnambulist. Wrap Dr. Johnson in an antique mantle, crown him -(by his kind permission) with a garland, and he will move in state under -those ancient skies of morning; touching a series of sacred posts<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_119" id="page_119">{119}</a></span> -carved with the heads of the strange terminal gods, that stand at the -limits of the land and of the life of man. Make the child free of the -marbles and mosaics of some classic temple, to play on a whole floor -inlaid with squares of black and white; and he will willingly make this -fulfilment of his idle and drifting day-dream the clear field for a -grave and graceful dance. But the posts and the paving-stones are little -more and little less real than they are under modern limits. They are -not really much more serious for being taken seriously. They have the -sort of sincerity that they always had; the sincerity of art as a symbol -that expresses very real spiritualities under the surface of life. But -they are only sincere in the same sense as art; not sincere in the same -sense as morality. The eccentric’s collection of orange-peel may turn to -oranges in a Mediterranean festival or to golden apples in a -Mediterranean myth. But they are never on the same plane with the -difference between giving the orange to a blind beggar and carefully -placing the orange-peel so that the beggar may fall and break his leg. -Between these two things there is a difference of kind and not of -degree. The child does not think it wrong to step on the paving-stone as -he thinks it wrong to step on the dog’s tail. And it is very certain -that whatever jest or sentiment or fancy first set Johnson touching the -wooden posts, he never touched wood with any of the feeling with which -he stretched out his hands to the timber of that terrible tree, which -was the death of God and the life of man.</p> - -<p>As already noted, this does not mean that there was no reality or even -no religious sentiment in such a mood. As a matter of fact the Catholic -Church has taken over with uproarious success the whole of this popular -business of giving people local legends and lighter ceremonial -movements. In so far as all this sort of paganism was innocent and in -touch with nature, there is no reason why it should not be patronised by -patron saints as much as by pagan<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_120" id="page_120">{120}</a></span> gods. And in any case there are -degrees of seriousness in the most natural make-believe. There is all -the difference between fancying there are fairies in the wood, which -often only means fancying a certain wood as fit for fairies, and really -frightening ourselves until we will walk a mile rather than pass a house -we have told ourselves is haunted. Behind all these things is the fact -that beauty and terror are very real things and related to a real -spiritual world; and to touch them at all, even in doubt or fancy, is to -stir the deep things of the soul. We all understand that and the pagans -understood it. The point is that paganism did not really stir the soul -except with these doubts and fancies; with the consequence that we -to-day can have little beyond doubts and fancies about paganism. All the -best critics agree that all the greatest poets, in pagan Hellas for -example, had an attitude towards their gods which is quite queer and -puzzling to men in the Christian era. There seems to be an admitted -conflict between the god and the man; but everybody seems to be doubtful -about which is the hero and which is the villain. This doubt does not -merely apply to a doubter like Euripides in the Bacchae; it applies to a -moderate conservative like Sophocles in the Antigone; or even to a -regular Tory and reactionary like Aristophanes in the Frogs. Sometimes -it would seem that the Greeks believed above all things in reverence, -only they had nobody to revere. But the point of the puzzle is this: -that all this vagueness and variation arise from the fact that the whole -thing began in fancy and in dreaming; and that there are no rules of -architecture for a castle in the clouds.</p> - -<p>This is the mighty and branching tree called mythology which ramifies -round the whole world, whose remote branches under separate skies bear -like coloured birds the costly idols of Asia and the half-baked fetishes -of Africa and the fairy kings and princesses of the folk-tales of the -forests, and buried<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_121" id="page_121">{121}</a></span> amid vines and olives the Lares of the Latins, and -carried on the clouds of Olympus the buoyant supremacy of the gods of -Greece. These are the myths: and he who has no sympathy with myths has -no sympathy with men. But he who has most sympathy with myths will most -fully realise that they are not and never were a religion, in the sense -that Christianity or even Islam is a religion. They satisfy some of the -needs satisfied by a religion; and notably the need for doing certain -things at certain dates; the need of the twin ideas of festivity and -formality. But though they provide a man with a calendar, they do not -provide him with a creed. A man did not stand up and say ‘I believe in -Jupiter and Juno and Neptune,’ etc., as he stands up and says ‘I believe -in God the Father Almighty’ and the rest of the Apostles’ Creed. Many -believed in some and not in others, or more in some and less in others, -or only in a very vague poetical sense in any. There was no moment when -they were all collected into an orthodox order which men would fight and -be tortured to keep intact. Still less did anybody ever say in that -fashion: ‘I believe in Odin and Thor and Freya,’ for outside Olympus -even the Olympian order grows cloudy and chaotic. It seems clear to me -that Thor was not a god at all but a hero. Nothing resembling a religion -would picture anybody resembling a god as groping like a pigmy in a -great cavern, that turned out to be the glove of a giant. That is the -glorious ignorance called adventure. Thor may have been a great -adventurer; but to call him a god is like trying to compare Jehovah with -Jack and the Beanstalk. Odin seems to have been a real barbarian chief, -possibly of the Dark Ages after Christianity. Polytheism fades away at -its fringes into fairy-tales or barbaric memories; it is not a thing -like monotheism as held by serious monotheists. Again it does satisfy -the need to cry out on some uplifted name or some noble memory in -moments that are themselves noble<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_122" id="page_122">{122}</a></span> and uplifted; such as the birth of a -child or the saving of a city. But the name was so used by many to whom -it was only a name. Finally it did satisfy, or rather it partially -satisfied, a thing very deep in humanity indeed; the idea of -surrendering something as the portion of the unknown powers; of pouring -out wine upon the ground, of throwing a ring into the sea; in a word, of -sacrifice. It is the wise and worthy idea of not taking our advantage to -the full; of putting something in the other balance to ballast our -dubious pride, of paying tithes to nature for our land. This deep truth -of the danger of insolence, or being too big for our boots, runs through -all the great Greek tragedies and makes them great. But it runs side by -side with an almost cryptic agnosticism about the real nature of the -gods to be propitiated. Where that gesture of surrender is most -magnificent, as among the great Greeks, there is really much more idea -that the man will be the better for losing the ox than that the god will -be the better for getting it. It is said that in its grosser forms there -are often actions grotesquely suggestive of the god really eating the -sacrifice. But this fact is falsified by the error that I put first in -this note on mythology. It is misunderstanding the psychology of -day-dreams. A child pretending there is a goblin in a hollow tree will -do a crude and material thing, like leaving a piece of cake for him. A -poet might do a more dignified and elegant thing, like bringing to the -god fruits as well as flowers. But the degree of <i>seriousness</i> in both -acts may be the same or it may vary in almost any degree. The crude -fancy is no more a creed than the ideal fancy is a creed. Certainly the -pagan does not disbelieve like an atheist, any more than he believes -like a Christian. He feels the presence of powers about which he guesses -and invents. St. Paul said that the Greeks had one altar to an unknown -god. But in truth all their gods were unknown gods. And the real break -in history<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_123" id="page_123">{123}</a></span> did come when St. Paul declared to them whom they had -ignorantly worshipped.</p> - -<p>The substance of all such paganism may be summarised thus. It is an -attempt to reach the divine reality through the imagination alone; in -its own field reason does not restrain it at all. It is vital to the -view of all history that reason is something separate from religion even -in the most rational of these civilisations. It is only as an -afterthought, when such cults are decadent or on the defensive, that a -few Neo-Platonists or a few Brahmins are found trying to rationalise -them, and even then only by trying to allegorise them. But in reality -the rivers of mythology and philosophy run parallel and do not mingle -till they meet in the sea of Christendom. Simple secularists still talk -as if the Church had introduced a sort of schism between reason and -religion. The truth is that the Church was actually the first thing that -ever tried to combine reason and religion. There had never before been -any such union of the priests and the philosophers. Mythology, then, -sought God through the imagination; or sought truth by means of beauty, -in the sense in which beauty includes much of the most grotesque -ugliness. But the imagination has its own laws and therefore its own -triumphs, which neither logicians nor men of science can understand. It -remained true to that imaginative instinct through a thousand -extravagances, through every crude cosmic pantomime of a pig eating the -moon or the world being cut out of a cow, through all the dizzy -convolutions and mystic malformations of Asiatic art, through all the -stark and staring rigidity of Egyptian and Assyrian portraiture, through -every kind of cracked mirror of mad art that seemed to deform the world -and displace the sky, it remained true to something about which there -can be no argument; something that makes it possible for some artist of -some school to stand suddenly still before that particular deformity and -say, ‘My dream<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_124" id="page_124">{124}</a></span> has come true.’ Therefore do we all in fact feel that -pagan or primitive myths are infinitely suggestive, so long as we are -wise enough not to inquire what they suggest. Therefore we all feel what -is meant by Prometheus stealing fire from heaven, until some prig of a -pessimist or progressive person explains what it means. Therefore we all -know the meaning of Jack and the Beanstalk, until we are told. In this -sense it is true that it is the ignorant who accept myths, but only -because it is the ignorant who appreciate poems. Imagination has its own -laws and triumphs; and a tremendous power began to clothe its images, -whether images in the mind or in the mud, whether in the bamboo of the -South Sea Islands or the marble of the mountains of Hellas. But there -was always a trouble in the triumph, which in these pages I have tried -to analyse in vain; but perhaps I might in conclusion state it thus.</p> - -<p>The crux and crisis is that man found it natural to worship; even -natural to worship unnatural things. The posture of the idol might be -stiff and strange; but the gesture of the worshipper was generous and -beautiful. He not only felt freer when he bent; he actually felt taller -when he bowed. Henceforth anything that took away the gesture of worship -would stunt and even maim him for ever. Henceforth being merely secular -would be a servitude and an inhibition. If man cannot pray he is gagged; -if he cannot kneel he is in irons. We therefore feel throughout the -whole of paganism a curious double feeling of trust and distrust. When -the man makes the gesture of salutation and of sacrifice, when he pours -out the libation or lifts up the sword, he knows he is doing a worthy -and a virile thing. He knows he is doing one of the things for which a -man was made. His imaginative experiment is therefore justified. But -precisely because it began with imagination, there is to the end -something of mockery in it, and especially in the object of it. This -mockery, in the more<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_125" id="page_125">{125}</a></span> intense moments of the intellect, becomes the -almost intolerable irony of Greek tragedy. There seems a disproportion -between the priest and the altar or between the altar and the god. The -priest seems more solemn and almost more sacred than the god. All the -order of the temple is solid and sane and satisfactory to certain parts -of our nature; except the very centre of it, which seems strangely -mutable and dubious, like a dancing flame. It is the first thought round -which the whole has been built; and the first thought is still a fancy -and almost a frivolity. In that strange place of meeting, the man seems -more statuesque than the statue. He himself can stand for ever in the -noble and natural attitude of the statue of the Praying Boy. But -whatever name be written on the pedestal, whether Zeus or Ammon or -Apollo, the god whom he worships is Proteus.</p> - -<p>The Praying Boy may be said to express a need rather than to satisfy a -need. It is by a normal and necessary action that his hands are lifted; -but it is no less a parable that his hands are empty. About the nature -of that need there will be more to say; but at this point it may be said -that perhaps after all this true instinct, that prayer and sacrifice are -a liberty and an enlargement, refers back to that vast and -half-forgotten conception of universal fatherhood, which we have already -seen everywhere fading from the morning sky. This is true; and yet it is -not all the truth. There remains an indestructible instinct, in the poet -as represented by the pagan, that he is not entirely wrong in localising -his god. It is something in the soul of poetry if not of piety. And the -greatest of poets, when he defined the poet, did not say that he gave us -the universe or the absolute or the infinite; but, in his own larger -language, a local habitation and a name. No poet is merely a pantheist; -those who are counted most pantheistic, like Shelley, start with some -local and particular image as the pagans did. After all, Shelley<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_126" id="page_126">{126}</a></span> wrote -of the skylark because it was a skylark. You could not issue an imperial -or international translation of it for use in South Africa, in which it -was changed to an ostrich. So the mythological imagination moves as it -were in circles, hovering either to find a place or to return to it. In -a word, mythology is a <i>search</i>; it is something that combines a -recurrent desire with a recurrent doubt, mixing a most hungry sincerity -in the idea of seeking for a place with a most dark and deep and -mysterious levity about all the places found. So far could the lonely -imagination lead, and we must turn later to the lonely reason. Nowhere -along this road did the two ever travel together.</p> - -<p>That is where all these things differed from religion in the reality in -which these different dimensions met or a sort of solid. They differed -from the reality not in what they looked like but in what they were. A -picture may look like a landscape; it may look in every detail exactly -like a landscape. The only detail in which it differs is that it is not -a landscape. The difference is only that which divides a portrait of -Queen Elizabeth from Queen Elizabeth. Only in this mythical and mystical -world the portrait could exist before the person; and the portrait was -therefore more vague and doubtful. But anybody who has felt and fed on -the atmosphere of these myths will know what I mean when I say that in -one sense they did not really profess to be realities. The pagans had -dreams about realities; and they would have been the first to admit, in -their own words, that some came through the gate of ivory and others -through the gate of horn. The dreams do indeed tend to be very vivid -dreams when they touch on those tender or tragic things, which can -really make a sleeper awaken with the sense that his heart has been -broken in his sleep. They tend continually to hover over certain -passionate themes of meeting and parting, of a life that ends in death -or a death that is the begin<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_127" id="page_127">{127}</a></span>ning of life. Demeter wanders over a -stricken world looking for a stolen child; Isis stretches out her arms -over the earth in vain to gather the limbs of Osiris; and there is -lamentation upon the hills for Atys and through the woods for Adonis. -There mingles with all such mourning the mystical and profound sense -that death can be a deliverer and an appeasement; that such death gives -us a divine blood for a renovating river and that all good is found in -gathering the broken body of the god. We may truly call these -foreshadowings; so long as we remember that foreshadowings are shadows. -And the metaphor of a shadow happens to hit very exactly the truth that -is very vital here. For a shadow is a shape; a thing which reproduces -shape but not texture. These things were something <i>like</i> the real -thing; and to say that they were like is to say that they were -different. Saying something is like a dog is another way of saying it is -not a dog; and it is in this sense of identity that a myth is not a man. -Nobody really thought of Isis as a human being; nobody really thought of -Demeter as a historical character; nobody thought of Adonis as the -founder of a Church. There was no idea that any one of them had changed -the world; but rather that their recurrent death and life bore the sad -and beautiful burden of the changelessness of the world. Not one of them -was a revolution, save in the sense of the revolution of the sun and -moon. Their whole meaning is missed if we do not see that they mean the -shadows that we are and the shadows that we pursue. In certain -sacrificial and communal aspects they naturally suggest what sort of a -god might satisfy men; but they do not profess to be satisfied. Any one -who says they do is a bad judge of poetry.</p> - -<p>Those who talk about Pagan Christs have less sympathy with Paganism than -with Christianity. Those who call these cults ‘religions,’ and ‘compare’ -them with the certitude and challenge of the Church<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_128" id="page_128">{128}</a></span> have much less -appreciation than we have of what made heathenism human, or of why -classic literature is still something that hangs in the air like a song. -It is no very human tenderness for the hungry to prove that hunger is -the same as food. It is no very genial understanding of youth to argue -that hope destroys the need for happiness. And it is utterly unreal to -argue that these images in the mind, admired entirely in the abstract, -were even in the same world with a living man and a living polity that -were worshipped because they were concrete. We might as well say that a -boy playing at robbers is the same as a man in his first day in the -trenches; or that a boy’s first fancies about ‘the not impossible she’ -are the same as the sacrament of marriage. They are fundamentally -different exactly where they are superficially similar; we might almost -say they are not the same even when they are the same. They are only -different because one is real and the other is not. I do not mean merely -that I myself believe that one is true and the other is not. I mean that -one was never meant to be true in the same sense as the other. The sense -in which it was meant to be true I have tried to suggest vaguely here, -but it is undoubtedly very subtle and almost indescribable. It is so -subtle that the students who profess to put it up as a rival to our -religion miss the whole meaning and purport of their own study. We know -better than the scholars, even those of us who are no scholars, what was -in that hollow cry that went forth over the dead Adonis and why the -Great Mother had a daughter wedded to death. We have entered more deeply -than they into the Eleusinian Mysteries and have passed a higher grade, -where gate within gate guarded the wisdom of Orpheus. We know the -meaning of all the myths. We know the last secret revealed to the -perfect initiate. And it is not the voice of a priest or a prophet -saying, ‘These things are.’ It is the voice of a dreamer and an idealist -crying, ‘Why cannot these things be?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_129" id="page_129">{129}</a></span>’</p> - -<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VI-a" id="CHAPTER_VI-a"></a>CHAPTER VI<br /><br /> -THE DEMONS AND THE PHILOSOPHERS</h3> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">I have</span> dwelt at some little length on this imaginative sort of paganism, -which has crowded the world with temples and is everywhere the parent of -popular festivity. For the central history of civilisation, as I see it, -consists of two further stages before the final stage of Christendom. -The first was the struggle between this paganism and something less -worthy than itself, and the second the process by which it grew in -itself less worthy. In this very varied and often very vague polytheism -there was a weakness of original sin. Pagan gods were depicted as -tossing men like dice; and indeed they are loaded dice. About sex -especially men are born unbalanced; we might almost say men are born -mad. They scarcely reach sanity till they reach sanctity. This -disproportion dragged down the winged fancies; and filled the end of -paganism with a mere filth and litter of spawning gods. But the first -point to realise is that this sort of paganism had an early collision -with another sort of paganism; and that the issue of that essentially -spiritual struggle really determined the history of the world. In order -to understand it we must pass to a review of the other kind of paganism. -It can be considered much more briefly; indeed, there is a very real -sense in which the less that is said about it the better. If we have -called the first sort of mythology the day-dream, we might very well -call the second sort of mythology the nightmare.</p> - -<p>Superstition recurs in all ages, and especially in rationalistic ages. I -remember defending the religious<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_130" id="page_130">{130}</a></span> tradition against a whole -luncheon-table of distinguished agnostics; and before the end of our -conversation every one of them had procured from his pocket, or -exhibited on his watch-chain, some charm or talisman from which he -admitted that he was never separated. I was the only person present who -had neglected to provide himself with a fetish. Superstition recurs in a -rationalist age because it rests on something which, if not identical -with rationalism, is not unconnected with scepticism. It is at least -very closely connected with agnosticism. It rests on something that is -really a very human and intelligible sentiment, like the local -invocations of the <i>numen</i> in popular paganism. But it is an agnostic -sentiment, for it rests on two feelings: first that we do not really -know the laws of the universe; and second that they may be very -different from all that we call reason. Such men realise the real truth -that enormous things do often turn upon tiny things. When a whisper -comes, from tradition or what not, that one particular tiny thing is the -key or clue, something deep and not altogether senseless in human nature -tells them that it is not unlikely. This feeling exists in both the -forms of paganism here under consideration. But when we come to the -second form of it, we find it transformed and filled with another and -more terrible spirit.</p> - -<p>In dealing with the lighter thing called mythology, I have said little -about the most disputable aspect of it; the extent to which such -invocation of the spirits of the sea or the elements can indeed call -spirits from the vasty deep; or rather (as the Shakespearean scoffer put -it) whether the spirits come when they are called. I believe that I am -right in thinking that this problem, practical as it sounds, did not -play a dominant part in the poetical business of mythology. But I think -it even more obvious, on the evidence, that things of that sort have -sometimes appeared, even if they were only appearances. But when we<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_131" id="page_131">{131}</a></span> -come to the world of superstition, in a more subtle sense, there is a -shade of difference; a deepening and a darkening shade. Doubtless most -popular superstition is as frivolous as any popular mythology. Men do -not believe as a dogma that God would throw a thunderbolt at them for -walking under a ladder; more often they amuse themselves with the not -very laborious exercise of walking round it. There is no more in it than -what I have already adumbrated; a sort of airy agnosticism about the -possibilities of so strange a world. But there is another sort of -superstition that does definitely look for results; what might be called -a realistic superstition. And with that the question of whether spirits -do answer or do appear becomes much more serious. As I have said, it -seems to me pretty certain that they sometimes do; but about that there -is a distinction that has been the beginning of much evil in the world.</p> - -<p>Whether it be because the Fall has really brought men nearer to less -desirable neighbours in the spiritual world, or whether it is merely -that the mood of men eager or greedy finds it easier to imagine evil, I -believe that the black magic of witchcraft has been much more practical -and much less poetical than the white magic of mythology. I fancy the -garden of the witch has been kept much more carefully than the woodland -of the nymph. I fancy the evil field has even been more fruitful than -the good. To start with, some impulse, perhaps a sort of desperate -impulse, drove men to the darker powers when dealing with practical -problems. There was a sort of secret and perverse feeling that the -darker powers would really do things; that they had no nonsense about -them. And indeed that popular phrase exactly expresses the point. The -gods of mere mythology had a great deal of nonsense about them. They had -a great deal of good nonsense about them; in the happy and hilarious -sense in which we talk of the nonsense of Jabberwocky or the Land where -the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_132" id="page_132">{132}</a></span> Jumblies live. But the man consulting a demon felt as many a man -has felt in consulting a detective, especially a private detective: that -it was dirty work but the work would really be done. A man did not -exactly go into the wood to meet a nymph; he rather went with the hope -of meeting a nymph. It was an adventure rather than an assignation. But -the devil really kept his appointments and even in one sense kept his -promises; even if a man sometimes wished afterwards, like Macbeth, that -he had broken them.</p> - -<p>In the accounts given us of many rude or savage races we gather that the -cult of demons often came after the cult of deities, and even after the -cult of one single and supreme deity. It may be suspected that in almost -all such places the higher deity is felt to be too far off for appeal in -certain petty matters, and men invoke the spirits because they are in a -more literal sense familiar spirits. But with the idea of employing the -demons who get things done, a new idea appears more worthy of the -demons. It may indeed be truly described as the idea of being worthy of -the demons; of making oneself fit for their fastidious and exacting -society. Superstition of the lighter sort toys with the idea that some -trifle, some small gesture such as throwing the salt, may touch the -hidden spring that works the mysterious machinery of the world. And -there is after all something in the idea of such an Open Sesame. But -with the appeal to lower spirits comes the horrible notion that the -gesture must not only be very small but very low; that it must be a -monkey trick of an utterly ugly and unworthy sort. Sooner or later a man -deliberately sets himself to do the most disgusting thing he can think -of. It is felt that the extreme of evil will extort a sort of attention -or answer from the evil powers under the surface of the world. This is -the meaning of most of the cannibalism in the world. For most -cannibalism is not a primitive or even a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_133" id="page_133">{133}</a></span> bestial habit. It is -artificial and even artistic; a sort of art for art’s sake. Men do not -do it because they do not think it horrible; but, on the contrary, -because they do think it horrible. They wish, in the most literal sense, -to sup on horrors. That is why it is often found that rude races like -the Australian natives are not cannibals; while much more refined and -intelligent races, like the New Zealand Maories, occasionally are. They -are refined and intelligent enough to indulge sometimes in a -self-conscious diabolism. But if we could understand their minds, or -even really understand their language, we should probably find that they -were not acting as ignorant, that is as innocent cannibals. They are not -doing it because they do not think it wrong, but precisely because they -do think it wrong. They are acting like a Parisian decadent at a Black -Mass. But the Black Mass has to hide underground from the presence of -the real Mass. In other words, the demons have really been in hiding -since the coming of Christ on earth. The cannibalism of the higher -barbarians is in hiding from the civilisation of the white man. But -before Christendom, and especially outside Europe, this was not always -so. In the ancient world the demons often wandered abroad like dragons. -They could be positively and publicly enthroned as gods. Their enormous -images could be set up in public temples in the centre of populous -cities. And all over the world the traces can be found of this striking -and solid fact, so curiously overlooked by the moderns who speak of all -such evil as primitive and early in evolution, that as a matter of fact -some of the very highest civilisations of the world were the very places -where the horns of Satan were exalted, not only to the stars but in the -face of the sun.</p> - -<p>Take for example the Aztecs and American Indians of the ancient empires -of Mexico and Peru. They were at least as elaborate as Egypt or China -and only less lively than that central civilisation which is our<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_134" id="page_134">{134}</a></span> own. -But those who criticise that central civilisation (which is always their -own civilisation) have a curious habit of not merely doing their -legitimate duty in condemning its crimes, but of going out of their way -to idealise its victims. They always assume that before the advent of -Europe there was nothing anywhere but Eden. And Swinburne, in that -spirited chorus of the nations in ‘Songs before Sunrise,’ used an -expression about Spain in her South American conquests which always -struck me as very strange. He said something about ‘her sins and sons -through sinless lands dispersed,’ and how they ‘made accursed the name -of man and thrice accursed the name of God.’ It may be reasonable enough -that he should say the Spaniards were sinful, but why in the world -should he say that the South Americans were sinless? Why should he have -supposed that continent to be exclusively populated by archangels or -saints perfect in heaven? It would be a strong thing to say of the most -respectable neighbourhood; but when we come to think of what we really -do know of that society the remark is rather funny. We know that the -sinless priests of this sinless people worshipped sinless gods, who -accepted as the nectar and ambrosia of their sunny paradise nothing but -incessant human sacrifice accompanied by horrible torments. We may note -also in the mythology of this American civilisation that element of -reversal or violence against instinct of which Dante wrote; which runs -backwards everywhere through the unnatural religion of the demons. It is -notable not only in ethics but in aesthetics. A South American idol was -made as ugly as possible, as a Greek image was made as beautiful as -possible. They were seeking the secret of power, by working backwards -against their own nature and the nature of things. There was always a -sort of yearning to carve at last, in gold or granite or the dark red -timber of the forests, a face at which the sky itself would break like a -cracked mirror.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_135" id="page_135">{135}</a></span></p> - -<p>In any case it is clear enough that the painted and gilded civilisation -of tropical America systematically indulged in human sacrifice. It is by -no means clear, so far as I know, that the Eskimos ever indulged in -human sacrifice. They were not civilised enough. They were too closely -imprisoned by the white winter and the endless dark. Chill penury -repressed their noble rage and froze the genial current of the soul. It -was in brighter days and broader daylight that the noble rage is found -unmistakably raging. It was in richer and more instructed lands that the -genial current flowed on the altars, to be drunk by great gods wearing -goggling and grinning masks and called on in terror or torment by long -cacophonous names that sound like laughter in hell. A warmer climate and -a more scientific cultivation were needed to bring forth these blooms; -to draw up towards the sun the large leaves and flamboyant blossoms that -gave their gold and crimson and purple to that garden, which Swinburne -compares to the Hesperides. There was at least no doubt about the -dragon.</p> - -<p>I do not raise in this connection the special controversy about Spain -and Mexico; but I may remark in passing that it resembles exactly the -question that must in some sense be raised afterwards about Rome and -Carthage. In both cases there has been a queer habit among the English -of always siding against the Europeans, and representing the rival -civilisation, in Swinburne’s phrase, as sinless; when its sins were -obviously crying or rather screaming to heaven. For Carthage also was a -high civilisation, indeed a much more highly civilised civilisation. And -Carthage also founded that civilisation on a religion of fear, sending -up everywhere the smoke of human sacrifice. Now it is very right to -rebuke our own race or religion for falling short of our own standards -and ideals. But it is absurd to pretend that they fell lower than the -other races and religions that professed the very opposite standards and -ideals. There is a very real<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_136" id="page_136">{136}</a></span> sense in which the Christian is worse than -the heathen, the Spaniard worse than the Red Indian, or even the Roman -potentially worse than the Carthaginian. But there is only one sense in -which he is worse; and that is not in being positively worse. The -Christian is only worse because it is his business to be better.</p> - -<p>This inverted imagination produces things of which it is better not to -speak. Some of them indeed might almost be named without being known; -for they are of that extreme evil which seems innocent to the innocent. -They are too inhuman even to be indecent. But without dwelling much -longer in these dark corners, it may be noted as not irrelevant here -that certain anti-human antagonisms seem to recur in this tradition of -black magic. There may be suspected as running through it everywhere, -for instance, a mystical hatred of the idea of childhood. People would -understand better the popular fury against the witches, if they -remembered that the malice most commonly attributed to them was -preventing the birth of children. The Hebrew prophets were perpetually -protesting against the Hebrew race relapsing into an idolatry that -involved such a war upon children; and it is probable enough that this -abominable apostasy from the God of Israel has occasionally appeared in -Israel since, in the form of what is called ritual murder; not of course -by any representative of the religion of Judaism, but by individual and -irresponsible diabolists who did happen to be Jews. This sense that the -forces of evil especially threaten childhood is found again in the -enormous popularity of the Child Martyr of the Middle Ages. Chaucer did -but give another version of a very national English legend, when he -conceived the wickedest of all possible witches as the dark alien woman -watching behind her high lattice and hearing, like the babble of a brook -down the stony street, the singing of little St. Hugh.</p> - -<p>Anyhow the part of such speculations that concerns this story centred -especially round that eastern<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_137" id="page_137">{137}</a></span> end of the Mediterranean where the nomads -had turned gradually into traders and had begun to trade with the whole -world. Indeed in the sense of trade and travel and colonial extension, -it already had something like an empire of the whole world. Its purple -dye, the emblem of its rich pomp and luxury, had steeped the wares which -were sold far away amid the last crags of Cornwall and the sails that -entered the silence of tropic seas amid all the mystery of Africa. It -might be said truly to have painted the map purple. It was already a -world-wide success, when the princes of Tyre would hardly have troubled -to notice that one of their princesses had condescended to marry the -chief of some tribe called Judah; when the merchants of its African -outpost would only have curled their bearded and Semitic lips with a -slight smile at the mention of a village called Rome. And indeed no two -things could have seemed more distant from each other, not only in space -but in spirit, than the monotheism of the Palestinian tribe and the very -virtues of the small Italian republic. There was but one thing between -them; and the thing which divided them has united them. Very various and -incompatible were the things that could be loved by the consuls of Rome -and the prophets of Israel; but they were at one in what they hated. It -is very easy in both cases to represent that hatred as something merely -hateful. It is easy enough to make a merely harsh and inhuman figure -either of Elijah raving above the slaughter of Carmel or Cato thundering -against the amnesty of Africa. These men had their limitations and their -local passions; but this criticism of them is unimaginative and -therefore unreal. It leaves out something, something immense and -intermediate, facing east and west and calling up this passion in its -eastern and western enemies; and that something is the first subject of -this chapter.</p> - -<p>The civilisation that centred in Tyre and Sidon was above all things -practical. It has left little in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_138" id="page_138">{138}</a></span> way of art and nothing in the way -of poetry. But it prided itself upon being very efficient; and it -followed in its philosophy and religion that strange and sometimes -secret train of thought which we have already noted in those who look -for immediate effects. There is always in such a mentality an idea that -there is a short cut to the secret of all success; something that would -shock the world by this sort of shameless thoroughness. They believed, -in the appropriate modern phrase, in people who delivered the goods. In -their dealings with their god Moloch, they themselves were always -careful to deliver the goods. It was an interesting transaction, upon -which we shall have to touch more than once in the rest of the -narrative; it is enough to say here that it involved the theory I have -suggested about a certain attitude towards children. This was what -called up against it in simultaneous fury the servant of one God in -Palestine and the guardians of all the household gods in Rome. This is -what challenged two things naturally so much divided by every sort of -distance and disunion, whose union was to save the world.</p> - -<p>I have called the fourth and final division of the spiritual elements -into which I should divide heathen humanity by the name of The -Philosophers. I confess that it covers in my mind much that would -generally be classified otherwise; and that what are here called -philosophies are very often called religions. I believe however that my -own description will be found to be much the more realistic and not the -less respectful. But we must first take philosophy in its purest and -clearest form that we may trace its normal outline; and that is to be -found in the world of the purest and clearest outlines, that culture of -the Mediterranean of which we have been considering the mythologies and -idolatries in the last two chapters.</p> - -<p>Polytheism, or that aspect of paganism, was never to the pagan what -Catholicism is to the Catholic. It was never a view of the universe -satisfying all sides<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_139" id="page_139">{139}</a></span> of life; a complete and complex truth with -something to say about everything. It was only a satisfaction of one -side of the soul of man, even if we call it the religious side; and I -think it is truer to call it the imaginative side. But this it did -satisfy; in the end it satisfied it to satiety. All that world was a -tissue of interwoven tales and cults, and there ran in and out of it, as -we have already seen, that black thread among its more blameless -colours: the darker paganism that was really diabolism. But we all know -that this did not mean that all pagan men thought of nothing but pagan -gods. Precisely because mythology only satisfied one mood, they turned -in other moods to something totally different. But it is very important -to realise that it was totally different. It was too different to be -inconsistent. It was so alien that it did not clash. While a mob of -people were pouring on a public holiday to the feast of Adonis or the -games in honour of Apollo, this or that man would prefer to stop at home -and think out a little theory about the nature of things. Sometimes his -hobby would even take the form of thinking about the nature of God; or -even in that sense about the nature of the gods. But he very seldom -thought of pitting his nature of the gods against the gods of nature.</p> - -<p>It is necessary to insist on this abstraction in the first student of -abstractions. He was not so much antagonistic as absent-minded. His -hobby might be the universe; but at first the hobby was as private as if -it had been numismatics or playing draughts. And even when his wisdom -came to be a public possession, and almost a political institution, it -was very seldom on the same plane as the popular and religious -institutions. Aristotle, with his colossal common sense, was perhaps the -greatest of all philosophers; certainly the most practical of all -philosophers. But Aristotle would no more have set up the Absolute side -by side with the Apollo of Delphi,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_140" id="page_140">{140}</a></span> as a similar or rival religion, than -Archimedes would have thought of setting up the Lever as a sort of idol -or fetish to be substituted for the Palladium of the city. Or we might -as well imagine Euclid building an altar to an isosceles triangle, or -offering sacrifices to the square on the hypotenuse. The one man -meditated on metaphysics as the other man did on mathematics; for the -love of truth or for curiosity or for the fun of the thing. But that -sort of fun never seems to have interfered very much with the other sort -of fun; the fun of dancing or singing to celebrate some rascally romance -about Zeus becoming a bull or a swan. It is perhaps the proof of a -certain superficiality and even insincerity about the popular -polytheism, that men could be philosophers and even sceptics without -disturbing it. These thinkers could move the foundations of the world -without altering even the outline of that coloured cloud that hung above -it in the air.</p> - -<p>For the thinkers did move the foundations of the world; even when a -curious compromise seemed to prevent them from moving the foundations of -the city. The two great philosophers of antiquity do indeed appear to us -as defenders of sane and even of sacred ideas; their maxims often read -like the answers to sceptical questions too completely answered to be -always recorded. Aristotle annihilated a hundred anarchists and -nature-worshipping cranks by the fundamental statement that man is a -political animal. Plato in some sense anticipated the Catholic realism, -as attacked by the heretical nominalism, by insisting on the equally -fundamental fact that ideas are realities; that ideas exist just as men -exist. Plato however seemed sometimes almost to fancy that ideas exist -as men do not exist; or that the men need hardly be considered where -they conflict with the ideas. He had something of the social sentiment -that we call Fabian in his ideal of fitting the citizen to the city, -like an imaginary head to an ideal hat;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_141" id="page_141">{141}</a></span> and great and glorious as he -remains, he has been the father of all faddists. Aristotle anticipated -more fully the sacramental sanity that was to combine the body and the -soul of things; for he considered the nature of men as well as the -nature of morals, and looked to the eyes as well as to the light. But -though these great men were in that sense constructive and conservative, -they belonged to a world where thought was free to the point of being -fanciful. Many other great intellects did indeed follow them, some -exalting an abstract vision of virtue, others following more -rationalistically the necessity of the human pursuit of happiness. The -former had the name of Stoics; and their name has passed into a proverb -for what is indeed one of the main moral ideals of mankind: that of -strengthening the mind itself until it is of a texture to resist -calamity or even pain. But it is admitted that a great number of the -philosophers degenerated into what we still call sophists. They became a -sort of professional sceptics who went about asking uncomfortable -questions, and were handsomely paid for making themselves a nuisance to -normal people. It was perhaps an accidental resemblance to such -questioning quacks that was responsible for the unpopularity of the -great Socrates; whose death might seem to contradict the suggestion of -the permanent truce between the philosophers and the gods. But Socrates -did not die as a monotheist who denounced polytheism; certainly not as a -prophet who denounced idols. It is clear to any one reading between the -lines that there was some notion, right or wrong, of a purely personal -influence affecting morals and perhaps politics. The general compromise -remained; whether it was that the Greeks thought their myths a joke or -that they thought their theories a joke. There was never any collision -in which one really destroyed the other, and there was never any -combination in which one was really reconciled with the other. They -certainly did not work together; if anything the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_142" id="page_142">{142}</a></span> philosopher was a -rival of the priest. But both seemed to have accepted a sort of -separation of functions and remained parts of the same social system. -Another important tradition descends from Pythagoras; who is significant -because he stands nearest to the Oriental mystics who must be considered -in their turn. He taught a sort of mysticism of mathematics, that number -is the ultimate reality; but he also seems to have taught the -transmigration of souls like the Brahmins; and to have left to his -followers certain traditional tricks of vegetarianism and water-drinking -very common among the eastern sages, especially those who figure in -fashionable drawing-rooms, like those of the later Roman Empire. But in -passing to eastern sages, and the somewhat different atmosphere of the -East, we may approach a rather important truth by another path.</p> - -<p>One of the great philosophers said that it would be well if philosophers -were kings, or kings were philosophers. He spoke as of something too -good to be true; but, as a matter of fact, it not unfrequently was true. -A certain type, perhaps too little noticed in history, may really be -called the royal philosopher. To begin with, apart from actual royalty, -it did occasionally become possible for the sage, though he was not what -we call a religious founder, to be something like a political founder. -And the great example of this, one of the very greatest in the world, -will with the very thought of it carry us thousands of miles across the -vast spaces of Asia to that very wonderful and in some ways that very -wise world of ideas and institutions, which we dismiss somewhat cheaply -when we talk of China. Men have served many very strange gods; and -trusted themselves loyally to many ideals and even idols. China is a -society that has really chosen to believe in intellect. It has taken -intellect seriously; and it may be that it stands alone in the world. -From a very early age it faced the dilemma of the king and the -philosopher by actually<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_143" id="page_143">{143}</a></span> appointing a philosopher to advise the king. It -made a public institution out of a private individual, who had nothing -in the world to do but to be intellectual. It had and has, of course, -many other things on the same pattern. It creates all ranks and -privileges by public examination; it has nothing that we call an -aristocracy; it is a democracy dominated by an intelligentsia. But the -point here is that it had philosophers to advise kings; and one of those -philosophers must have been a great philosopher and a great statesman.</p> - -<p>Confucius was not a religious founder or even a religious teacher; -possibly not even a religious man. He was not an atheist; he was -apparently what we call an agnostic. But the really vital point is that -it is utterly irrelevant to talk about his religion at all. It is like -talking of theology as the first thing in the story of how Rowland Hill -established the postal system or Baden Powell organised the Boy Scouts. -Confucius was not there to bring a message from heaven to humanity, but -to organise China; and he must have organised it exceedingly well. It -follows that he dealt much with morals; but he bound them up strictly -with manners. The peculiarity of his scheme, and of his country, in -which it contrasts with its great pendant the system of Christendom, is -that he insisted on perpetuating an external life with all its forms, -that outward continuity might preserve internal peace. Any one who knows -how much habit has to do with health, of mind as well as body, will see -the truth in his idea. But he will also see that the ancestor-worship -and the reverence for the Sacred Emperor were habits and not creeds. It -is unfair to the great Confucius to say he was a religious founder. It -is even unfair to him to say he was not a religious founder. It is as -unfair as going out of one’s way to say that Jeremy Bentham was not a -Christian martyr.</p> - -<p>But there is a class of most interesting cases in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_144" id="page_144">{144}</a></span> which philosophers -were kings, and not merely the friends of kings. The combination is not -accidental. It has a great deal to do with this rather elusive question -of the function of the philosopher. It contains in it some hint of why -philosophy and mythology seldom came to an open rupture. It was not only -because there was something a little frivolous about the mythology. It -was also because there was something a little supercilious about the -philosopher. He despised the myths, but he also despised the mob; and -thought they suited each other. The pagan philosopher was seldom a man -of the people, at any rate in spirit; he was seldom a democrat and often -a bitter critic of democracy. He had about him an air of aristocratic -and humane leisure; and his part was most easily played by men who -happened to be in such a position. It was very easy and natural for a -prince or a prominent person to play at being as philosophical as -Hamlet, or Theseus in the <i>Midsummer Night’s Dream</i>. And from very early -ages we find ourselves in the presence of these princely intellectuals. -In fact, we find one of them in the very first recorded ages of the -world; sitting on that primeval throne that looked over ancient Egypt.</p> - -<p>The most intense interest of the incident of Akhenaten, commonly called -the Heretic Pharaoh, lies in the fact that he was the one example, at -any rate before Christian times, of one of these royal philosophers who -set himself to fight popular mythology in the name of private -philosophy. Most of them assumed the attitude of Marcus Aurelius, who is -in many ways the model of this sort of monarch and sage. Marcus Aurelius -has been blamed for tolerating the pagan amphitheatre or the Christian -martyrdoms. But it was characteristic; for this sort of man really -thought of popular religion just as he thought of popular circuses. Of -him Professor Phillimore has profoundly said ‘a great and good man—and -he knew it.’ The Heretic Pharaoh had a philosophy more<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_145" id="page_145">{145}</a></span> earnest and -perhaps more humble. For there is a corollary to the conception of being -too proud to fight. It is that the humble have to do most of the -fighting. Anyhow, the Egyptian prince was simple enough to take his own -philosophy seriously, and alone among such intellectual princes he -affected a sort of <i>coup d’état</i>; hurling down the high gods of Egypt -with one imperial gesture and lifting up for all men, like a blazing -mirror of monotheistic truth, the disc of the universal sun. He had -other interesting ideas often to be found in such idealists. In the -sense in which we speak of a Little Englander he was a Little Egypter. -In art he was a realist because he was an idealist; for realism is more -impossible than any other ideal. But after all there falls on him -something of the shadow of Marcus Aurelius; stalked by the shadow of -Professor Phillimore. What is the matter with this noble sort of prince -is that he has nowhere quite escaped being something of a prig. -Priggishness is so pungent a smell that it clings amid the faded spices -even to an Egyptian mummy. What was the matter with the Heretic Pharaoh, -as with a good many other heretics, was that he probably never paused to -ask himself whether there was <i>anything</i> in the popular beliefs and -tales of people less educated than himself. And, as already suggested, -there was something in them. There was a real human hunger in all that -element of feature and locality, that procession of deities like -enormous pet animals, in that unwearied watching at certain haunted -spots, in all the mazy wandering of mythology. Nature may not have the -name of Isis; Isis may not be really looking for Osiris. But it is true -that Nature is really looking for something. Nature is always looking -for the supernatural. Something much more definite was to satisfy that -need; but a dignified monarch with a disc of the sun did not satisfy it. -The royal experiment failed amid a roaring reaction of popular -superstitions, in which the priests rose on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_146" id="page_146">{146}</a></span> shoulders of the people -and ascended the throne of the kings.</p> - -<p>The next great example I shall take of the princely sage is Gautama, the -great Lord Buddha. I know he is not generally classed merely with the -philosophers; but I am more and more convinced, from all information -that reaches me, that this is the real interpretation of his immense -importance. He was by far the greatest and the best of these -intellectuals born in the purple. His reaction was perhaps the noblest -and most sincere of all the resultant actions of that combination of -thinkers and of thrones. For his reaction was renunciation. Marcus -Aurelius was content to say, with a refined irony, that even in a palace -life could be lived well. The fierier Egyptian king concluded that it -could be lived even better after a palace revolution. But the great -Gautama was the only one of them who proved he could really do without -his palace. One fell back on toleration and the other on revolution. But -after all there is something more absolute about abdication. Abdication -is perhaps the one really absolute action of an absolute monarch. The -Indian prince, reared in Oriental luxury and pomp, deliberately went out -and lived the life of a beggar. That is magnificent, but it is not war; -that is, it is not necessarily a Crusade in the Christian sense. It does -not decide the question of whether the life of a beggar was the life of -a saint or the life of a philosopher. It does not decide whether this -great man is really to go into the tub of Diogenes or the cave of St. -Jerome. Now those who seem to be nearest to the study of Buddha, and -certainly those who write most clearly and intelligently about him, -convince me for one that he was simply a philosopher who founded a -successful school of philosophy, and was turned into a sort of <i>divus</i> -or sacred being merely by the more mysterious and unscientific -atmosphere of all such traditions in Asia. So that it is necessary to -say at this point a word about that<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_147" id="page_147">{147}</a></span> invisible yet vivid border-line -that we cross in passing from the Mediterranean into the mystery of the -East.</p> - -<p>Perhaps there are no things out of which we get so little of the truth -as the truisms; especially when they are really true. We are all in the -habit of saying certain things about Asia, which are true enough but -which hardly help us because we do not understand their truth; as that -Asia is old or looks to the past or is not progressive. Now it is true -that Christendom is more progressive, in a sense that has very little to -do with the rather provincial notion of an endless fuss of political -improvement. Christendom does believe, for Christianity does believe, -that man can eventually get somewhere, here or hereafter, or in various -ways according to various doctrines. The world’s desire can somehow be -satisfied as desires are satisfied, whether by a new life or an old love -or some form of positive possession and fulfilment. For the rest, we all -know there is a rhythm and not a mere progress in things, that things -rise and fall; only with us the rhythm is a fairly free and incalculable -rhythm. For most of Asia the rhythm has hardened into a recurrence. It -is no longer merely a rather topsy-turvy sort of world; it is a wheel. -What has happened to all those highly intelligent and highly civilised -peoples is that they have been caught up in a sort of cosmic rotation, -of which the hollow hub is really nothing. In that sense the worst part -of existence is that it may just as well go on like that for ever. That -is what we really mean when we say that Asia is old or unprogressive or -looking backwards. That is why we see even her curved swords as arcs -broken from that blinding wheel; why we see her serpentine ornament as -returning everywhere, like a snake that is never slain. It has very -little to do with the political varnish of progress; all Asiatics might -have tophats on their heads, but if they had this spirit still in their -hearts they would only think the hats would<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_148" id="page_148">{148}</a></span> vanish and come round again -like the planets; not that running after a hat could lead them to heaven -or even to home.</p> - -<p>Now when the genius of Buddha arose to deal with the matter, this sort -of cosmic sentiment was already common to almost everything in the East. -There was indeed the jungle of an extraordinarily extravagant and almost -asphyxiating mythology. Nevertheless it is possible to have more -sympathy with this popular fruitfulness in folk-lore than with some of -the higher pessimism that might have withered it. It must always be -remembered, however, when all fair allowances are made, that a great -deal of spontaneous eastern imagery really is idolatry; the local and -literal worship of an idol. This is probably not true of the ancient -Brahminical system, at least as seen by Brahmins. But that phrase alone -will remind us of a reality of much greater moment. This great reality -is the Caste System of ancient India. It may have had some of the -practical advantages of the Guild System of Medieval Europe. But it -contrasts not only with that Christian democracy, but with every extreme -type of Christian aristocracy, in the fact that it does really conceive -the social superiority as a spiritual superiority. This not only divides -it fundamentally from the fraternity of Christendom, but leaves it -standing like a mighty and terraced mountain of pride between the -relatively egalitarian levels both of Islam and of China. But the fixity -of this formation through thousands of years is another illustration of -that spirit of repetition that has marked time from time immemorial. Now -we may also presume the prevalence of another idea which we associate -with the Buddhists as interpreted by the Theosophists. As a fact, some -of the strictest Buddhists repudiate the idea and still more scornfully -repudiate the Theosophists. But whether the idea is in Buddhism, or only -in the birthplace of Buddhism, or only in a tradition or a travesty of -Buddhism, it is<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_149" id="page_149">{149}</a></span> an idea entirely proper to this principle of -recurrence. I mean of course the idea of Reincarnation.</p> - -<p>But Reincarnation is not really a mystical idea. It is not really a -transcendental idea, or in that sense a religious idea. Mysticism -conceives something transcending experience; religion seeks glimpses of -a better good or a worse evil than experience can give. Reincarnation -need only extend experiences in the sense of repeating them. It is no -more transcendental for a man to remember what he did in Babylon before -he was born than to remember what he did in Brixton before he had a -knock on the head. His successive lives <i>need</i> not be any more than -human lives, under whatever limitations burden human life. It has -nothing to do with seeing God or even conjuring up the devil. In other -words, reincarnation as such does not necessarily escape from the wheel -of destiny; in some sense it is the wheel of destiny. And whether it was -something that Buddha founded, or something that Buddha found, or -something that Buddha entirely renounced when he found, it is certainly -something having the general character of that Asiatic atmosphere in -which he had to play his part. And the part he played was that of an -intellectual philosopher, with a particular theory about the right -intellectual attitude towards it.</p> - -<p>I can understand that Buddhists might resent the view that Buddhism is -merely a philosophy, if we understand by a philosophy merely an -intellectual game such as Greek sophists played, tossing up worlds and -catching them like balls. Perhaps a more exact statement would be that -Buddha was a man who made a metaphysical discipline; which might even be -called a psychological discipline. He proposed a way of escaping from -all this recurrent sorrow; and that was simply by getting rid of the -delusion that is called desire. It was emphatically <i>not</i> that we should -get what we want better by restraining our impatience for part of it, or -that we should get it in a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_150" id="page_150">{150}</a></span> better way or in a better world. It was -emphatically that we should leave off wanting it. If once a man realised -that there is really no reality, that everything, including his soul, is -in dissolution at every instant, he would anticipate disappointment and -be intangible to change, existing (in so far as he could be said to -exist) in a sort of ecstasy of indifference. The Buddhists call this -beatitude, and we will not stop our story to argue the point; certainly -to us it is indistinguishable from despair. I do not see, for instance, -why the disappointment of desire should not apply as much to the most -benevolent desires as to the most selfish ones. Indeed the Lord of -Compassion seems to pity people for living rather than for dying. For -the rest, an intelligent Buddhist wrote, ‘The explanation of popular -Chinese and Japanese Buddhism is that it is not Buddhism.’ <i>That</i> has -doubtless ceased to be a mere philosophy, but only by becoming a mere -mythology. One thing is certain: it has never become anything remotely -resembling what we call a Church.</p> - -<p>It will appear only a jest to say that all religious history has really -been a pattern of noughts and crosses. But I do not by noughts mean -nothings, but only things that are negative compared with the positive -shape or pattern of the other. And though the symbol is of course only a -coincidence, it is a coincidence that really does coincide. The mind of -Asia can really be represented by a round O, if not in the sense of a -cypher at least of a circle. The great Asiatic symbol of a serpent with -its tail in its mouth is really a very perfect image of a certain idea -of unity and recurrence that does indeed belong to the Eastern -philosophies and religions. It really is a curve that in one sense -includes everything, and in another sense comes to nothing. In that -sense it does confess, or rather boast, that all argument is an argument -in a circle. And though the figure is but a symbol, we can see how sound -is the symbolic<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_151" id="page_151">{151}</a></span> sense that produces it, the parallel symbol of the -Wheel of Buddha generally called the Swastika. The cross is a thing at -right angles pointing boldly in opposite directions; but the Swastika is -the same thing in the very act of returning to the recurrent curve. That -crooked cross is in fact a cross turning into a wheel. Before we dismiss -even these symbols as if they were arbitrary symbols, we must remember -how intense was the imaginative instinct that produced them or selected -them both in the East and the West. The cross has become something more -than a historical memory; it does convey, almost as by a mathematical -diagram, the truth about the real point at issue; the idea of a conflict -stretching outwards into eternity. It is true, and even tautological, to -say that the cross is the crux of the whole matter.</p> - -<p>In other words, the cross, in fact as well as figure, does really stand -for the idea of breaking out of the circle that is everything and -nothing. It does escape from the circular argument by which everything -begins and ends in the mind. Since we are still dealing in symbols, it -might be put in a parable in the form of that story about St. Francis, -which says that the birds departing with his benediction could wing -their way into the infinities of the four winds of heaven, their tracks -making a vast cross upon the sky; for compared with the freedom of that -flight of birds, the very shape of the Swastika is like a kitten chasing -its tail. In a more popular allegory, we might say that when St. George -thrust his spear into the monster’s jaws, he broke in upon the solitude -of the self-devouring serpent and gave it something to bite besides its -own tail. But while many fancies might be used as figures of the truth, -the truth itself is abstract and absolute; though it is not very easy to -sum up except by such figures. Christianity does appeal to a solid truth -outside itself; to something which is in that sense external as well as -eternal. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_152" id="page_152">{152}</a></span> does declare that things are really there; or in other -words that things are really things. In this Christianity is at one with -common sense; but all religious history shows that this common sense -perishes except where there is Christianity to preserve it.</p> - -<p>It cannot otherwise exist, or at least endure, because mere thought does -not remain sane. In a sense it becomes too simple to be sane. The -temptation of the philosophers is simplicity rather than subtlety. They -are always attracted by insane simplifications, as men poised above -abysses are fascinated by death and nothingness and the empty air. It -needed another kind of philosopher to stand poised upon the pinnacle of -the Temple and keep his balance without casting himself down. One of -these obvious, these too obvious explanations is that everything is a -dream and a delusion and there is nothing outside the ego. Another is -that all things recur; another, which is said to be Buddhist and is -certainly Oriental, is the idea that what is the matter with us is our -creation, in the sense of our coloured differentiation and personality, -and that nothing will be well till we are again melted into one unity. -By this theory, in short, the Creation was the Fall. It is important -historically because it was stored up in the dark heart of Asia and went -forth at various times in various forms over the dim borders of Europe. -Here we can place the mysterious figure of Manes or Manichaeus, the -mystic of inversion, whom we should call a pessimist, parent of many -sects and heresies; here, in a higher place, the figure of Zoroaster. He -has been popularly identified with another of these too simple -explanations: the equality of evil and good, balanced and battling in -every atom. He also is of the school of sages that may be called -mystics; and from the same mysterious Persian garden came upon ponderous -wings Mithras, the unknown god, to trouble the last twilight of Rome.</p> - -<p>That circle or disc of the sun set up in the morning<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_153" id="page_153">{153}</a></span> of the world by -the remote Egyptian has been a mirror and a model for all the -philosophers. They have made many things out of it, and sometimes gone -mad about it, especially when as in these eastern sages the circle -became a wheel going round and round in their heads. But the point about -them is that they all think that existence can be represented by a -diagram instead of a drawing; and the rude drawings of the childish -myth-makers are a sort of crude and spirited protest against that view. -They cannot believe that religion is really not a pattern but a picture. -Still less can they believe that it is a picture of something that -really exists outside our minds. Sometimes the philosopher paints the -disc all black and calls himself a pessimist; sometimes he paints it all -white and calls himself an optimist; sometimes he divides it exactly -into halves of black and white and calls himself a dualist, like those -Persian mystics to whom I wish there were space to do justice. None of -them could understand a thing that began to draw the proportions just as -if they were real proportions, disposed in the living fashion which the -mathematical draughtsman would call disproportionate. Like the first -artist in the cave, it revealed to incredulous eyes the suggestion of a -new purpose in what looked like a wildly crooked pattern; he seemed only -to be distorting his diagram, when he began for the first time in all -the ages to trace the lines of a form—and of a Face.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_154" id="page_154">{154}</a></span></p> - -<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VII-a" id="CHAPTER_VII-a"></a>CHAPTER VII<br /><br /> -THE WAR OF THE GODS AND DEMONS</h3> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">The</span> materialist theory of history, that all politics and ethics are the -expression of economics, is a very simple fallacy indeed. It consists -simply of confusing the necessary conditions of life with the normal -preoccupations of life, that are quite a different thing. It is like -saying that because a man can only walk about on two legs, therefore he -never walks about except to buy shoes and stockings. Man cannot live -without the two props of food and drink, which support him like two -legs; but to suggest that they have been the motives of all his -movements in history is like saying that the goal of all his military -marches or religious pilgrimages must have been the Golden Leg of Miss -Kilmansegg or the ideal and perfect leg of Sir Willoughby Patterne. But -it is such movements that make up the story of mankind, and without them -there would practically be no story at all. Cows may be purely economic, -in the sense that we cannot see that they do much beyond grazing and -seeking better grazing-grounds; and that is why a history of cows in -twelve volumes would not be very lively reading. Sheep and goats may be -pure economists in their external action at least; but that is why the -sheep has hardly been a hero of epic wars and empires thought worthy of -detailed narration; and even the more active quadruped has not inspired -a book for boys called Golden Deeds of Gallant Goats or any similar -title. But so far from the movements that make up the story of man being -economic, we may say that the story only begins where the motive<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_155" id="page_155">{155}</a></span> of the -cows and sheep leaves off. It will be hard to maintain that the -Crusaders went from their homes into a howling wilderness because cows -go from a wilderness to a more comfortable grazing-ground. It will be -hard to maintain that the Arctic explorers went north with the same -material motive that made the swallows go south. And if you leave things -like all the religious wars and all the merely adventurous explorations -out of the human story, it will not only cease to be human at all but -cease to be a story at all. The outline of history is made of these -decisive curves and angles determined by the will of man. Economic -history would not even be history.</p> - -<p>But there is a deeper fallacy besides this obvious fact; that men need -not live for food merely because they cannot live without food. The -truth is that the thing most present to the mind of man is not the -economic machinery necessary to his existence, but rather that existence -itself; the world which he sees when he wakes every morning and the -nature of his general position in it. There is something that is nearer -to him than livelihood, and that is life. For once that he remembers -exactly what work produces his wages and exactly what wages produce his -meals, he reflects ten times that it is a fine day or it is a queer -world, or wonders whether life is worth living, or wonders whether -marriage is a failure, or is pleased and puzzled with his own children, -or remembers his own youth, or in any such fashion vaguely reviews the -mysterious lot of man. This is true of the majority even of the -wage-slaves of our morbid modern industrialism, which by its hideousness -and inhumanity has really forced the economic issue to the front. It is -immeasurably more true of the multitude of peasants or hunters or -fishers who make up the real mass of mankind. Even those dry pedants who -think that ethics depend on economics must admit that economics depend -on existence. And any number of normal doubts and day-dreams are<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_156" id="page_156">{156}</a></span> about -existence; not about how we can live, but about why we do. And the proof -of it is simple; as simple as suicide. Turn the universe upside down in -the mind and you turn all the political economists upside down with it. -Suppose that a man wishes to die, and the professor of political economy -becomes rather a bore with his elaborate explanations of how he is to -live. And all the departures and decisions that make our human past into -a story have this character of diverting the direct course of pure -economics. As the economist may be excused from calculating the future -salary of a suicide, so he may be excused from providing an old-age -pension for a martyr. As he need not provide for the future of a martyr, -so he need not provide for the family of a monk. His plan is modified in -lesser and varying degrees by a man being a soldier and dying for his -own country, by a man being a peasant and specially loving his own land, -by a man being more or less affected by any religion that forbids or -allows him to do this or that. But all these come back not to an -economic calculation about livelihood but to an elemental outlook upon -life. They all come back to what a man fundamentally feels, when he -looks forth from those strange windows which we call the eyes, upon that -strange vision that we call the world.</p> - -<p>No wise man will wish to bring more long words into the world. But it -may be allowable to say that we need a new thing; which may be called -psychological history. I mean the consideration of what things meant in -the mind of a man, especially an ordinary man; as distinct from what is -defined or deduced merely from official forms or political -pronouncements. I have already touched on it in such a case as the totem -or indeed any other popular myth. It is not enough to be told that a -tom-cat was called a totem; especially when it was not called a totem. -We want to know what it felt like. Was it like Whittington’s cat or like -a witch’s cat? Was<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_157" id="page_157">{157}</a></span> its real name Pasht or Puss-In-Boots? That is the -sort of thing we need touching the nature of political and social -relations. We want to know the real sentiment that was the social bond -of many common men, as sane and as selfish as we are. What did soldiers -feel when they saw splendid in the sky that strange totem that we call -the Golden Eagle of the Legions? What did vassals feel about those other -totems, the lions or the leopards upon the shield of their lord? So long -as we neglect this subjective side of history, which may more simply be -called the inside of history, there will always be a certain limitation -on that science which can be better transcended by art. So long as the -historian cannot do that, fiction will be truer than fact. There will be -more reality in a novel; yes, even in a historical novel.</p> - -<p>In nothing is this new history needed so much as in the psychology of -war. Our history is stiff with official documents, public or private, -which tell us nothing of the thing itself. At the worst we only have the -official posters, which could not have been spontaneous precisely -because they were official. At the best we have only the secret -diplomacy, which could not have been popular precisely because it was -secret. Upon one or other of these is based the historical judgment -about the real reasons that sustained the struggle. Governments fight -for colonies or commercial rights; governments fight about harbours or -high tariffs; governments fight for a gold mine or a pearl fishery. It -seems sufficient to answer that governments do not fight at all. Why do -the fighters fight? What is the psychology that sustains the terrible -and wonderful thing called a war? Nobody who knows anything of soldiers -believes the silly notion of the dons, that millions of men can be ruled -by force. If they were all to slack, it would be impossible to punish -all the slackers. And the least little touch of slacking would lose a -whole campaign in half a day. What did men really feel<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_158" id="page_158">{158}</a></span> about the -policy? If it be said that they accepted the policy from the politician, -what did they feel about the politician? If the vassals warred blindly -for their prince, what did those blind men see in their prince?</p> - -<p>There is something we all know which can only be rendered, in an -appropriate language, as <i>realpolitik</i>. As a matter of fact, it is an -almost insanely unreal politik. It is always stubbornly and stupidly -repeating that men fight for material ends, without reflecting for a -moment that the material ends are hardly ever material to the men who -fight. In any case, no man will die for practical politics, just as no -man will die for pay. Nero could not hire a hundred Christians to be -eaten by lions at a shilling an hour; for men will not be martyred for -money. But the vision called up by real politik, or realistic politics, -is beyond example crazy and incredible. Does anybody in the world -believe that a soldier says, ‘My leg is nearly dropping off, but I shall -go on till it drops; for after all I shall enjoy all the advantages of -my government obtaining a warm-water port in the Gulf of Finland.’ Can -anybody suppose that a clerk turned conscript says, ‘If I am gassed I -shall probably die in torments; but it is a comfort to reflect that -should I ever decide to become a pearl-diver in the South Seas, that -career is now open to me and my countrymen.’ Materialist history is the -most madly incredible of all histories, or even of all romances. -Whatever starts wars, the thing that sustains wars is something in the -soul; that is something akin to religion. It is what men feel about life -and about death. A man near to death is dealing directly with an -absolute; it is nonsense to say he is concerned only with relative and -remote complications that death in any case will end. If he is sustained -by certain loyalties, they must be loyalties as simple as death. They -are generally two ideas, which are only two sides of one idea. The first -is the love of some<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_159" id="page_159">{159}</a></span>thing said to be threatened, if it be only vaguely -known as home; the second is dislike and defiance of some strange thing -that threatens it. The first is far more philosophical than it sounds, -though we need not discuss it here. A man does not want his national -home destroyed or even changed, because he cannot even remember all the -good things that go with it; just as he does not want his house burnt -down, because he can hardly count all the things he would miss. -Therefore he fights for what sounds like a hazy abstraction, but is -really a house. But the negative side of it is quite as noble as well as -quite as strong. Men fight hardest when they feel that the foe is at -once an old enemy and an eternal stranger, that his atmosphere is alien -and antagonistic; as the French feel about the Prussian or the Eastern -Christians about the Turk. If we say it is a difference of religion, -people will drift into dreary bickerings about sects and dogmas. We will -pity them and say it is a difference about death and daylight; a -difference that does really come like a dark shadow between our eyes and -the day. Men can think of this difference even at the point of death; -for it is a difference about the meaning of life.</p> - -<p>Men are moved in these things by something far higher and holier than -policy: by hatred. When men hung on in the darkest days of the Great -War, suffering either in their bodies or in their souls for those they -loved, they were long past caring about details of diplomatic objects as -motives for their refusal to surrender. Of myself and those I knew best -I can answer for the vision that made surrender impossible. It was the -vision of the German Emperor’s face as he rode into Paris. This is not -the sentiment which some of my idealistic friends describe as Love. I am -quite content to call it hatred; the hatred of hell and all its works, -and to agree that as they do not believe in hell they need not believe -in hatred. But in the face of this prevalent prejudice, this long<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_160" id="page_160">{160}</a></span> -introduction has been unfortunately necessary, to ensure an -understanding of what is meant by a religious war. There is a religious -war when two worlds meet; that is, when two visions of the world meet; -or in more modern language, when two moral atmospheres meet. What is the -one man’s breath is the other man’s poison; and it is vain to talk of -giving a pestilence a place in the sun. And this is what we must -understand, even at the expense of digression, if we would see what -really happened in the Mediterranean; when right athwart the rising of -the Republic on the Tiber, a thing overtopping and disdaining it, dark -with all the riddles of Asia and trailing all the tribes and -dependencies of imperialism, came Carthage riding on the sea.</p> - -<p>The ancient religion of Italy was on the whole that mixture which we -have considered under the head of mythology; save that where the Greeks -had a natural turn for the mythology, the Latins seem to have had a real -turn for religion. Both multiplied gods, yet they sometimes seem to have -multiplied them for almost opposite reasons. It would seem sometimes as -if the Greek polytheism branched and blossomed upwards like the boughs -of a tree, while the Italian polytheism ramified downward like the -roots. Perhaps it would be truer to say that the former branches lifted -themselves lightly, bearing flowers; while the latter hung down, being -heavy with fruit. I mean that the Latins seem to multiply gods to bring -them nearer to men, while the Greek gods rose and radiated outwards into -the morning sky. What strikes us in the Italian cults is their local and -especially their domestic character. We gain the impression of -divinities swarming about the house like flies; of deities clustering -and clinging like bats about the pillars or building like birds under -the eaves. We have a vision of a god of roofs and a god of gateposts, of -a god of doors and even a god of drains. It has been suggested that all -mythology was a sort of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_161" id="page_161">{161}</a></span> fairy-tale; but this was a particular sort of -fairy-tale which may truly be called a fireside tale, or a nursery-tale; -because it was a tale of the interior of the home; like those which make -chairs and tables talk like elves. The old household gods of the Italian -peasants seem to have been great, clumsy, wooden images, more -featureless than the figure-head which Quilp battered with the poker. -This religion of the home was very homely. Of course there were other -less human elements in the tangle of Italian mythology. There were Greek -deities superimposed on the Roman; there were here and there uglier -things underneath, experiments in the cruel kind of paganism, like the -Arician rite of the priest slaying the slayer. But these things were -always potential in paganism; they are certainly not the peculiar -character of Latin paganism. The peculiarity of that may be roughly -covered by saying that if mythology personified the forces of nature, -this mythology personified nature as transformed by the forces of man. -It was the god of the corn and not of the grass, of the cattle and not -the wild things of the forest; in short, the cult was literally a -culture; as when we speak of it as agriculture.</p> - -<p>With this there was a paradox which is still for many the puzzle or -riddle of the Latins. With religion running through every domestic -detail like a climbing plant, there went what seems to many the very -opposite spirit: the spirit of revolt. Imperialists and reactionaries -often invoke Rome as the very model of order and obedience; but Rome was -the very reverse. The real history of ancient Rome is much more like the -history of modern Paris. It might be called in modern language a city -built out of barricades. It is said that the gate of Janus was never -closed because there was an eternal war without; it is almost as true -that there was an eternal revolution within. From the first Plebeian -riots to the last Servile Wars, the state that imposed peace on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_162" id="page_162">{162}</a></span> -world was never really at peace. The rulers were themselves rebels.</p> - -<p>There is a real relation between this religion in private and this -revolution in public life. Stories none the less heroic for being -hackneyed remind us that the Republic was founded on a tyrannicide that -avenged an insult to a wife; that the Tribunes of the people were -re-established after another which avenged an insult to a daughter. The -truth is that only men to whom the family is sacred will ever have a -standard or a status by which to criticise the state. They alone can -appeal to something more holy than the gods of the city; the gods of the -hearth. That is why men are mystified in seeing that the same nations -that are thought rigid in domesticity are also thought restless in -politics; for instance, the Irish and the French. It is worth while to -dwell on this domestic point because it is an exact example of what is -meant here by the inside of history, like the inside of houses. Merely -political histories of Rome may be right enough in saying that this or -that was a cynical or cruel act of the Roman politicians; but the spirit -that lifted Rome from beneath was the spirit of all the Romans; and it -is not a cant to call it the ideal of Cincinnatus passing from the -senate to the plough. Men of that sort had strengthened their village on -every side, had extended its victories already over Italians and even -over Greeks, when they found themselves confronted with a war that -changed the world. I have called it here the war of the gods and demons.</p> - -<p>There was established on the opposite coast of the inland sea a city -that bore the name of the New Town. It was already much older, more -powerful, and more prosperous than the Italian town; but there still -remained about it an atmosphere that made the name not inappropriate. It -had been called new because it was a colony like New York or New -Zealand. It was an outpost or settlement of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_163" id="page_163">{163}</a></span> energy and expansion of -the great commercial cities of Tyre and Sidon. There was a note of the -new countries and colonies about it; a confident and commercial outlook. -It was fond of saying things that rang with a certain metallic -assurance; as that nobody could wash his hands in the sea without the -leave of the New Town. For it depended almost entirely on the greatness -of its ships, as did the two great ports and markets from which its -people came. It brought from Tyre and Sidon a prodigious talent for -trade and considerable experience of travel. It brought other things as -well.</p> - -<p>In a previous chapter I have hinted at something of the psychology that -lies behind a certain type of religion. There was a tendency in those -hungry for practical results, apart from poetical results, to call upon -spirits of terror and compulsion; to move Acheron in despair of bending -the gods. There is always a sort of dim idea that these darker powers -will really do things, with no nonsense about it. In the interior -psychology of the Punic peoples this strange sort of pessimistic -practicality had grown to great proportions. In the New Town, which the -Romans called Carthage, as in the parent cities of Phoenicia, the god -who got things done bore the name of Moloch, who was perhaps identical -with the other deity whom we know as Baal, the Lord. The Romans did not -at first quite know what to call him or what to make of him; they had to -go back to the grossest myth of Greek or Roman origins and compare him -to Saturn devouring his children. But the worshippers of Moloch were not -gross or primitive. They were members of a mature and polished -civilisation, abounding in refinements and luxuries; they were probably -far more civilised than the Romans. And Moloch was not a myth; or at any -rate his meal was not a myth. These highly civilised people really met -together to invoke the blessing of heaven on their empire by throwing -hundreds of their infants into a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_164" id="page_164">{164}</a></span> large furnace. We can only realise the -combination by imagining a number of Manchester merchants with -chimney-pot hats and mutton-chop whiskers, going to church every Sunday -at eleven o’clock to see a baby roasted.</p> - -<p>The first stages of the political or commercial quarrel can be followed -in far too much detail, precisely because it is merely political or -commercial. The Punic Wars looked at one time as if they would never -end; and it is not easy to say when they ever began. The Greeks and the -Sicilians had already been fighting vaguely on the European side against -the African city. Carthage had defeated Greece and conquered Sicily. -Carthage had also planted herself firmly in Spain; and between Spain and -Sicily the Latin city was contained and would have been crushed; if the -Romans had been of the sort to be easily crushed. Yet the interest of -the story really consists in the fact that Rome was crushed. If there -had not been certain moral elements as well as the material elements, -the story would have ended where Carthage certainly thought it had -ended. It is common enough to blame Rome for not making peace. But it -was a true popular instinct that there could be no peace with that sort -of people. It is common enough to blame the Roman for his <i>Delenda est -Carthago</i>; Carthage must be destroyed. It is commoner to forget that, to -all appearance, Rome itself was destroyed. The sacred savour that hung -round Rome for ever, it is too often forgotten, clung to her partly -because she had risen suddenly from the dead.</p> - -<p>Carthage was an aristocracy, as are most of such mercantile states. The -pressure of the rich on the poor was impersonal as well as irresistible. -For such aristocracies never permit personal government, which is -perhaps why this one was jealous of personal talent. But genius can turn -up anywhere, even in a governing class. As if to make the world’s -supreme test as terrible as possible, it was ordained that one of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_165" id="page_165">{165}</a></span> -great houses of Carthage should produce a man who came out of those -gilded palaces with all the energy and originality of Napoleon coming -from nowhere. At the worst crisis of the war, Rome learned that Italy -itself, by a military miracle, was invaded from the north. Hannibal, the -Grace of Baal as his name ran in his own tongue, had dragged a ponderous -chain of armaments over the starry solitudes of the Alps; and pointed -southward to the city which he had been pledged by all his dreadful gods -to destroy.</p> - -<p>Hannibal marched down the road to Rome, and the Romans who rushed to war -with him felt as if they were fighting with a magician. Two great armies -sank to right and left of him into the swamps of the Trebia; more and -more were sucked into the horrible whirlpool of Cannae; more and more -went forth only to fall in ruin at his touch. The supreme sign of all -disasters, which is treason, turned tribe after tribe against the -falling cause of Rome, and still the unconquerable enemy rolled nearer -and nearer to the city; and following their great leader the swelling -cosmopolitan army of Carthage passed like a pageant of the whole world; -the elephants shaking the earth like marching mountains and the gigantic -Gauls with their barbaric panoply and the dark Spaniards girt in gold -and the brown Numidians on their unbridled desert horses wheeling and -darting like hawks, and whole mobs of deserters and mercenaries and -miscellaneous peoples; and the Grace of Baal went before them.</p> - -<p>The Roman augurs and scribes who said in that hour that it brought forth -unearthly prodigies, that a child was born with the head of an elephant -or that stars fell down like hailstones, had a far more philosophical -grasp of what had really happened than the modern historian who can see -nothing in it but a success of strategy concluding a rivalry in -commerce. Something far different was felt at the time and on the spot, -as it is always felt by those who experience a foreign atmosphere -entering their own like a fog or<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_166" id="page_166">{166}</a></span> a foul savour. It was no mere military -defeat, it was certainly no mere mercantile rivalry, that filled the -Roman imagination with such hideous omens of nature herself becoming -unnatural. It was Moloch upon the mountain of the Latins, looking with -his appalling face across the plain; it was Baal who trampled the -vineyards with his feet of stone; it was the voice of Tanit the -invisible, behind her trailing veils, whispering of the love that is -more horrible than hate. The burning of the Italian cornfields, the ruin -of the Italian vines, were something more than actual; they were -allegorical. They were the destruction of domestic and fruitful things, -the withering of what was human before that inhumanity that is far -beyond the human thing called cruelty. The household gods bowed low in -darkness under their lowly roofs; and above them went the demons upon a -wind from beyond all walls, blowing the trumpet of the Tramontane. The -door of the Alps was broken down; and in no vulgar but a very solemn -sense, it was Hell let loose. The war of the gods and demons seemed -already to have ended; and the gods were dead. The eagles were lost, the -legions were broken; and in Rome nothing remained but honour and the -cold courage of despair.</p> - -<p>In the whole world one thing still threatened Carthage, and that was -Carthage. There still remained the inner working of an element strong in -all successful commercial states, and the presence of a spirit that we -know. There was still the solid sense and shrewdness of the men who -manage big enterprises; there was still the advice of the best financial -experts; there was still business government; there was still the broad -and sane outlook of practical men of affairs; and in these things could -the Romans hope. As the war trailed on to what seemed its tragic end, -there grew gradually a faint and strange possibility that even now they -might not hope in vain. The plain business men of Carthage, thinking as -such men do<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_167" id="page_167">{167}</a></span> in terms of living and dying races, saw clearly that Rome -was not only dying but dead. The war was over; it was obviously hopeless -for the Italian city to resist any longer, and inconceivable that -anybody should resist when it was hopeless. Under these circumstances, -another set of broad, sound business principles remained to be -considered. Wars were waged with money, and consequently cost money; -perhaps they felt in their hearts, as do so many of their kind, that -after all war must be a little wicked because it costs money. The time -had now come for peace; and still more for economy. The messages sent by -Hannibal from time to time asking for reinforcements were a ridiculous -anachronism; there were much more important things to attend to now. It -might be true that some consul or other had made a last dash to the -Metaurus, had killed Hannibal’s brother and flung his head, with Latin -fury, into Hannibal’s camp; and mad actions of that sort showed how -utterly hopeless the Latins felt about their cause. But even excitable -Latins could not be so mad as to cling to a lost cause for ever. So -argued the best financial experts; and tossed aside more and more -letters, full of rather queer alarmist reports. So argued and acted the -great Carthaginian Empire. That meaningless prejudice, the curse of -commercial states, that stupidity is in some way practical and that -genius is in some way futile, led them to starve and abandon that great -artist in the school of arms, whom the gods had given them in vain.</p> - -<p>Why do men entertain this queer idea that what is sordid must always -overthrow what is magnanimous; that there is some dim connection between -brains and brutality, or that it does not matter if a man is dull so -long as he is also mean? Why do they vaguely think of all chivalry as -sentiment and all sentiment as weakness? They do it because they are, -like all men, primarily inspired by religion. For them, as for all men, -the first fact is their notion of the nature of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_168" id="page_168">{168}</a></span> things; their idea -about what world they are living in. And it is their faith that the only -ultimate thing is fear and therefore that the very heart of the world is -evil. They believe that death is stronger than life, and therefore dead -things must be stronger than living things; whether those dead things -are gold and iron and machinery or rocks and rivers and forces of -nature. It may sound fanciful to say that men we meet at tea-tables or -talk to at garden-parties are secretly worshippers of Baal or Moloch. -But this sort of commercial mind has its own cosmic vision and it is the -vision of Carthage. It has in it the brutal blunder that was the ruin of -Carthage. The Punic power fell, because there is in this materialism a -mad indifference to real thought. By disbelieving in the soul, it comes -to disbelieving in the mind. Being too practical to be moral, it denies -what every practical soldier calls the moral of an army. It fancies that -money will fight when men will no longer fight. So it was with the Punic -merchant princes. Their religion was a religion of despair, even when -their practical fortunes were hopeful. How could they understand that -the Romans could hope even when their fortunes were hopeless? Their -religion was a religion of force and fear; how could they understand -that men can still despise fear even when they submit to force? Their -philosophy of the world had weariness in its very heart; above all they -were weary of warfare; how should they understand those who still wage -war even when they are weary of it? In a word, how should they -understand the mind of Man, who had so long bowed down before mindless -things, money and brute force and gods who had the hearts of beasts? -They awoke suddenly to the news that the embers they had disdained too -much even to tread out were again breaking everywhere into flame; that -Hasdrubal was defeated, that Hannibal was outnumbered, that Scipio had -carried the war into Spain; that he had carried it into Africa. Before<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_169" id="page_169">{169}</a></span> -the very gates of the golden city Hannibal fought his last fight for it -and lost; and Carthage fell as nothing has fallen since Satan. The name -of the New City remains only as a name. There is no stone of it left -upon the sand. Another war was indeed waged before the final -destruction: but the destruction was final. Only men digging in its deep -foundations centuries after found a heap of hundreds of little -skeletons, the holy relics of that religion. For Carthage fell because -she was faithful to her own philosophy and had followed out to its -logical conclusion her own vision of the universe. Moloch had eaten his -children.</p> - -<p>The gods had risen again, and the demons had been defeated after all. -But they had been defeated by the defeated, and almost defeated by the -dead. Nobody understands the romance of Rome, and why she rose -afterwards to a representative leadership that seemed almost fated and -fundamentally natural, who does not keep in mind the agony of horror and -humiliation through which she had continued to testify to the sanity -that is the soul of Europe. She came to stand alone in the midst of an -empire because she had once stood alone in the midst of a ruin and a -waste. After that all men knew in their hearts that she had been -representative of mankind, even when she was rejected of men. And there -fell on her the shadow from a shining and as yet invisible light and the -burden of things to be. It is not for us to guess in what manner or -moment the mercy of God might in any case have rescued the world; but it -is certain that the struggle which established Christendom would have -been very different if there had been an empire of Carthage instead of -an empire of Rome. We have to thank the patience of the Punic wars if, -in after ages, divine things descended at least upon human things and -not inhuman. Europe evolved into its own vices and its own impotence, as -will be suggested on another page; but the worst into which it evolved -was not like what it had escaped. Can<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_170" id="page_170">{170}</a></span> any man in his senses compare the -great wooden doll, whom the children expected to eat a little bit of the -dinner, with the great idol who would have been expected to eat the -children? That is the measure of how far the world went astray, compared -with how far it might have gone astray. If the Romans were ruthless, it -was in a true sense to an enemy, and certainly not merely a rival. They -remembered not trade routes and regulations, but the faces of sneering -men; and hated the hateful soul of Carthage. And we owe them something -if we never needed to cut down the groves of Venus exactly as men cut -down the groves of Baal. We owe it partly to their harshness that our -thoughts of our human past are not wholly harsh. If the passage from -heathenry to Christianity was a bridge as well as a breach, we owe it to -those who kept that heathenry human. If, after all these ages, we are in -some sense at peace with paganism, and can think more kindly of our -fathers, it is well to remember the things that were and the things that -might have been. For this reason alone we can take lightly the load of -antiquity and need not shudder at a nymph on a fountain or a cupid on a -valentine. Laughter and sadness link us with things long past away and -remembered without dishonour; and we can see not altogether without -tenderness the twilight sinking around the Sabine farm and hear the -household gods rejoice when Catullus comes home to Sirmio. <i>Deleta est -Carthago.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_171" id="page_171">{171}</a></span></p> - -<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VIII-a" id="CHAPTER_VIII-a"></a>CHAPTER VIII<br /><br /> -THE END OF THE WORLD</h3> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">I was</span> once sitting on a summer day in a meadow in Kent under the shadow -of a little village church, with a rather curious companion with whom I -had just been walking through the woods. He was one of a group of -eccentrics I had come across in my wanderings who had a new religion -called Higher Thought; in which I had been so far initiated as to -realise a general atmosphere of loftiness or height, and was hoping at -some later and more esoteric stage to discover the beginnings of -thought. My companion was the most amusing of them, for however he may -have stood towards thought, he was at least very much their superior in -experience, having travelled beyond the tropics while they were -meditating in the suburbs; though he had been charged with excess in -telling travellers’ tales. In spite of anything said against him, I -preferred him to his companions and willingly went with him through the -wood; where I could not but feel that his sunburnt face and fierce -tufted eyebrows and pointed beard gave him something of the look of Pan. -Then we sat down in the meadow and gazed idly at the tree-tops and the -spire of the village church; while the warm afternoon began to mellow -into early evening and the song of a speck of a bird was faint far up in -the sky and no more than a whisper of breeze soothed rather than stirred -the ancient orchards of the garden of England. Then my companion said to -me: ‘Do you know why the spire of that church goes up like that?’ I -expressed a respectable agnosticism, and he answered<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_172" id="page_172">{172}</a></span> in an off-hand -way, ‘Oh, the same as the obelisks; the phallic worship of antiquity.’ -Then I looked across at him suddenly as he lay there leering above his -goatlike beard; and for the moment I thought he was not Pan but the -Devil. No mortal words can express the immense, the insane incongruity -and unnatural perversion of thought involved in saying such a thing at -such a moment and in such a place. For one moment I was in the mood in -which men burned witches; and then a sense of absurdity equally enormous -seemed to open about me like a dawn. ‘Why, of course,’ I said after a -moment’s reflection, ‘if it hadn’t been for phallic worship, they would -have built the spire pointing downwards and standing on its own apex.’ I -could have sat in that field and laughed for an hour. My friend did not -seem offended, for indeed he was never thin-skinned about his scientific -discoveries. I had only met him by chance and I never met him again, and -I believe he is now dead; but though it has nothing to do with the -argument, it may be worth while to mention the name of this adherent of -Higher Thought and interpreter of primitive religious origins; or at any -rate the name by which he was known. It was Louis de Rougemont.</p> - -<p>That insane image of the Kentish church standing on the point of its -spire, as in some old rustic topsy-turvy tale, always comes back into my -imagination when I hear these things said about pagan origins; and calls -to my aid the laughter of the giants. Then I feel as genially and -charitably to all other scientific investigators, higher critics, and -authorities on ancient and modern religion, as I do to poor Louis de -Rougemont. But the memory of that immense absurdity remains as a sort of -measure and check by which to keep sane, not only on the subject of -Christian churches, but also on the subject of heathen temples. Now a -great many people have talked about heathen origins as the distinguished -traveller talked about Christian origins. Indeed a great many modern<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_173" id="page_173">{173}</a></span> -heathens have been very hard on heathenism. A great many modern -humanitarians have been very hard on the real religion of humanity. They -have represented it as being everywhere and from the first rooted only -in these repulsive arcana; and carrying the character of something -utterly shameless and anarchical. Now I do not believe this for a -moment. I should never dream of thinking about the whole worship of -Apollo what De Rougemont could think about the worship of Christ. I -would never admit that there was such an atmosphere in a Greek city as -that madman was able to smell in a Kentish village. On the contrary, it -is the whole point, even of this final chapter upon the final decay of -paganism, to insist once more that the worst sort of paganism had -already been defeated by the best sort. It was the best sort of paganism -that conquered the gold of Carthage. It was the best sort of paganism -that wore the laurels of Rome. It was the best thing the world had yet -seen, all things considered and on any large scale, that ruled from the -wall of the Grampians to the garden of the Euphrates. It was the best -that conquered; it was the best that ruled; and it was the best that -began to decay.</p> - -<p>Unless this broad truth be grasped, the whole story is seen askew. -Pessimism is not in being tired of evil but in being tired of good. -Despair does not lie in being weary of suffering, but in being weary of -joy. It is when for some reason or other the good things in a society no -longer work that the society begins to decline; when its food does not -feed, when its cures do not cure, when its blessings refuse to bless. We -might almost say that in a society without such good things we should -hardly have any test by which to register a decline; that is why some of -the static commercial oligarchies like Carthage have rather an air in -history of standing and staring like mummies, so dried up and swathed -and embalmed that no man knows when they are new or old. But Carthage -at<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_174" id="page_174">{174}</a></span> any rate was dead, and the worst assault ever made by the demons on -mortal society had been defeated. But how much would it matter that the -worst was dead if the best was dying?</p> - -<p>To begin with, it must be noted that the relation of Rome to Carthage -was partially repeated and extended in her relation to nations more -normal and more nearly akin to her than Carthage. I am not here -concerned to controvert the merely political view that Roman statesmen -acted unscrupulously towards Corinth or the Greek cities. But I am -concerned to contradict the notion that there was nothing but a -hypocritical excuse in the ordinary Roman dislike of Greek vices. I am -not presenting these pagans as paladins of chivalry, with a sentiment -about nationalism never known until Christian times. But I am presenting -them as men with the feelings of men; and those feelings were not a -pretence. The truth is that one of the weaknesses in nature-worship and -mere mythology had already produced a perversion among the Greeks, due -to the worst sophistry; the sophistry of simplicity. Just as they became -unnatural by worshipping nature, so they actually became unmanly by -worshipping man. If Greece led her conqueror, she might have misled her -conqueror; but these were things he did originally wish to conquer—even -in himself. It is true that in one sense there was less inhumanity even -in Sodom and Gomorrah than in Tyre and Sidon. When we consider the war -of the demons on the children, we cannot compare even Greek decadence to -Punic devil-worship. But it is not true that the sincere revulsion from -either need be merely pharisaical. It is not true to human nature or to -common sense. Let any lad who has had the luck to grow up sane and -simple in his day-dreams of love hear for the first time of the cult of -Ganymede; he will not be merely shocked but sickened. And that first -impression, as has been said here so often about first impressions, will -be right.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_175" id="page_175">{175}</a></span> Our cynical indifference is an illusion; it is the greatest -of all illusions: the illusion of familiarity. It is right to conceive -the more or less rustic virtues of the ruck of the original Romans as -reacting against the very rumour of it, with complete spontaneity and -sincerity. It is right to regard them as reacting, if in a lesser -degree, exactly as they did against the cruelty of Carthage. Because it -was in a less degree they did not destroy Corinth as they destroyed -Carthage. But if their attitude and action was rather destructive, in -neither case need their indignation have been mere self-righteousness -covering mere selfishness. And if anybody insists that nothing could -have operated in either case but reasons of state and commercial -conspiracies, we can only tell him that there is something which he does -not understand; something which possibly he will never understand; -something which, until he does understand, he will never understand the -Latins. That something is called democracy. He has probably heard the -word a good many times and even used it himself; but he has no notion of -what it means. All through the revolutionary history of Rome there was -an incessant drive towards democracy; the state and the statesman could -do nothing without a considerable backing of democracy; the sort of -democracy that never has anything to do with diplomacy. It is precisely -because of the presence of Roman democracy that we hear so much about -Roman oligarchy. For instance, recent historians have tried to explain -the valour and victory of Rome in terms of that detestable and detested -usury which was practised by some of the Patricians; as if Curius had -conquered the men of the Macedonian phalanx by lending them money; or -the Consul Nero had negotiated the victory of Metaurus at five per cent. -But we realise the usury of the Patricians because of the perpetual -revolt of the Plebeians. The rule of the Punic merchant princes had the -very soul of usury. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_176" id="page_176">{176}</a></span> there was never a Punic mob that dared to call -them usurers.</p> - -<p>Burdened like all mortal things with all mortal sin and weakness, the -rise of Rome had really been the rise of normal and especially of -popular things; and in nothing more than in the thoroughly normal and -profoundly popular hatred of perversion. Now among the Greeks a -perversion had become a convention. It is true that it had become so -much of a convention, especially a literary convention, that it was -sometimes conventionally copied by Roman literary men. But this is one -of those complications that always arise out of conventions. It must not -obscure our sense of the difference of tone in the two societies as a -whole. It is true that Virgil would once in a way take over a theme of -Theocritus; but nobody can get the impression that Virgil was -particularly fond of that theme. The themes of Virgil were specially and -notably the normal themes, and nowhere more than in morals; piety and -patriotism and the honour of the countryside. And we may well pause upon -the name of the poet as we pass into the autumn of antiquity: upon his -name who was in so supreme a sense the very voice of autumn, of its -maturity and its melancholy; of its fruits of fulfilment and its -prospect of decay. Nobody who reads even a few lines of Virgil can doubt -that he understood what moral sanity means to mankind. Nobody can doubt -his feelings when the demons were driven in flight before the household -gods. But there are two particular points about him and his work which -are particularly important to the main thesis here. The first is that -the whole of his great patriotic epic is in a very peculiar sense -founded upon the fall of Troy; that is, upon an avowed pride in Troy -although she had fallen. In tracing to Trojans the foundation of his -beloved race and republic, he began what may be called the great Trojan -tradition which runs through medieval and modern history. We have<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_177" id="page_177">{177}</a></span> -already seen the first hint of it in the pathos of Homer about Hector. -But Virgil turned it not merely into a literature but into a legend. And -it was a legend of the almost divine dignity that belongs to the -defeated. This was one of the traditions that did truly prepare the -world for the coming of Christianity and especially of Christian -chivalry. This is what did help to sustain civilisation through the -incessant defeats of the Dark Ages and the barbarian wars; out of which -what we call chivalry was born. It is the moral attitude of the man with -his back to the wall; and it was the wall of Troy. All through medieval -and modern times this version of the virtues in the Homeric conflict can -be traced in a hundred ways co-operating with all that was akin to it in -Christian sentiment. Our own countrymen, and the men of other countries, -loved to claim like Virgil that their own nation was descended from the -heroic Trojans. All sorts of people thought it the most superb sort of -heraldry to claim to be descended from Hector. Nobody seems to have -wanted to be descended from Achilles. The very fact that the Trojan name -has become a Christian name, and been scattered to the last limits of -Christendom, to Ireland or the Gaelic Highlands, while the Greek name -has remained relatively rare and pedantic, is a tribute to the same -truth. Indeed it involves a curiosity of language almost in the nature -of a joke. The name has been turned into a verb; and the very phrase -about hectoring, in the sense of swaggering, suggests the myriads of -soldiers who have taken the fallen Trojan for a model. As a matter of -fact, nobody in antiquity was less given to hectoring than Hector. But -even the bully pretending to be a conqueror took his title from the -conquered. That is why the popularisation of the Trojan origin by Virgil -has a vital relation to all those elements that have made men say that -Virgil was almost a Christian. It is almost as if two great tools or -toys of the same timber, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_178" id="page_178">{178}</a></span> divine and the human, had been in the -hands of Providence; and the only thing comparable to the Wooden Cross -of Calvary was the Wooden Horse of Troy. So, in some wild allegory, -pious in purpose if almost profane in form, the Holy Child might have -fought the Dragon with a wooden sword and a wooden horse.</p> - -<p>The other element in Virgil which is essential to the argument is the -particular nature of his relation to mythology; or what may here in a -special sense be called folklore, the faiths and fancies of the -populace. Everybody knows that his poetry at its most perfect is less -concerned with the pomposity of Olympus than with the <i>numina</i> of -natural and agricultural life. Every one knows where Virgil looked for -the causes of things. He speaks of finding them not so much in cosmic -allegories of Uranus and Chronos; but rather in Pan and the sisterhood -of the nymphs and the shaggy old man of the forest. He is perhaps most -himself in some passages of the Eclogues, in which he has perpetuated -for ever the great legend of Arcadia and the shepherds. Here again it is -easy enough to miss the point with petty criticism about all the things -that happen to separate his literary convention from ours. There is -nothing more artificial than the cry of artificiality, as directed -against the old pastoral poetry. We have entirely missed all that our -fathers meant by looking at the externals of what they wrote. People -have been so much amused with the mere fact that the china shepherdess -was made of china that they have not even asked why she was made at all. -They have been so content to consider the Merry Peasant as a figure in -an opera that they have not asked even how he came to go to the opera, -or how he strayed on to the stage.</p> - -<p>In short, we have only to ask why there is a china shepherdess and not a -china shopkeeper. Why were not mantelpieces adorned with figures of city -merchants in elegant attitudes; of ironmasters wrought<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_179" id="page_179">{179}</a></span> in iron, or gold -speculators in gold? Why did the opera exhibit a Merry Peasant and not a -Merry Politician? Why was there not a ballet of bankers, pirouetting -upon pointed toes? Because the ancient instinct and humour of humanity -have always told them, under whatever conventions, that the conventions -of complex cities were less really healthy and happy than the customs of -the countryside. So it is with the eternity of the Eclogues. A modern -poet did indeed write things called Fleet Street Eclogues, in which -poets took the place of the shepherds. But nobody has yet written -anything called Wall Street Eclogues, in which millionaires should take -the place of the poets. And the reason is that there is a real if only a -recurrent yearning for that sort of simplicity; and there is never that -sort of yearning for that sort of complexity. The key to the mystery of -the Merry Peasant is that the peasant often is merry. Those who do not -believe it are simply those who do not know anything about him, and -therefore do not know which are his times for merriment. Those who do -not believe in the shepherd’s feast or song are merely ignorant of the -shepherd’s calendar. The real shepherd is indeed very different from the -ideal shepherd, but that is no reason for forgetting the reality at the -root of the ideal. It needs a truth to make a tradition. It needs a -tradition to make a convention. Pastoral poetry is certainly often a -convention, especially in a social decline. It was in a social decline -that Watteau shepherds and shepherdesses lounged about the gardens of -Versailles. It was also in a social decline that shepherds and -shepherdesses continued to pipe and dance through the most faded -imitations of Virgil. But that is no reason for dismissing the dying -paganism without ever understanding its life. It is no reason for -forgetting that the very word Pagan is the same as the word Peasant. We -may say that this art is only artificiality; but it is not a love of the -artificial. On the contrary, it is in its very<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_180" id="page_180">{180}</a></span> nature only the failure -of nature-worship, or the love of the natural.</p> - -<p>For the shepherds were dying because their gods were dying. Paganism -lived upon poetry; that poetry already considered under the name of -mythology. But everywhere, and especially in Italy, it had been a -mythology and a poetry rooted in the countryside; and that rustic -religion had been largely responsible for the rustic happiness. Only as -the whole society grew in age and experience, there began to appear that -weakness in all mythology already noted in the chapter under that name. -This religion was not quite a religion. In other words, this religion -was not quite a reality. It was the young world’s riot with images and -ideas like a young man’s riot with wine or love-making; it was not so -much immoral as irresponsible; it had no foresight of the final test of -time. Because it was creative to any extent it was credulous to any -extent. It belonged to the artistic side of man, yet even considered -artistically it had long become overloaded and entangled. The family -trees sprung from the seed of Jupiter were a jungle rather than a -forest; the claims of the gods and demigods seemed like things to be -settled rather by a lawyer or a professional herald than by a poet. But -it is needless to say that it was not only in the artistic sense that -these things had grown more anarchic. There had appeared in more and -more flagrant fashion that flower of evil that is really implicit in the -very seed of nature-worship, however natural it may seem. I have said -that I do not believe that natural worship necessarily begins with this -particular passion; I am not of the De Rougemont school of scientific -folklore. I do not believe that mythology must begin in eroticism. But I -do believe that mythology must end in it. I am quite certain that -mythology did end in it. Moreover, not only did the poetry grow more -immoral, but the immorality grew more indefensible. Greek<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_181" id="page_181">{181}</a></span> vices, -oriental vices, hints of the old horrors of the Semitic demons, began to -fill the fancies of decaying Rome, swarming like flies on a dung-heap. -The psychology of it is really human enough, to any one who will try -that experiment of seeing history from the inside. There comes an hour -in the afternoon when the child is tired of ‘pretending’; when he is -weary of being a robber or a Red Indian. It is then that he torments the -cat. There comes a time in the routine of an ordered civilisation when -the man is tired of playing at mythology and pretending that a tree is a -maiden or that the moon made love to a man. The effect of this staleness -is the same everywhere; it is seen in all drug-taking and dram-drinking -and every form of the tendency to increase the dose. Men seek stranger -sins or more startling obscenities as stimulants to their jaded sense. -They seek after mad oriental religions for the same reason. They try to -stab their nerves to life, if it were with the knives of the priests of -Baal. They are walking in their sleep and try to wake themselves up with -nightmares.</p> - -<p>At that stage even of paganism therefore the peasant songs and dances -sound fainter and fainter in the forest. For one thing, the peasant -civilisation was fading, or had already faded, from the whole -countryside. The Empire at the end was organised more and more on that -servile system which generally goes with the boast of organisation; -indeed it was almost as servile as the modern schemes for the -organisation of industry. It is proverbial that what would once have -been a peasantry became a mere populace of the town dependent for bread -and circuses; which may again suggest to some a mob dependent upon doles -and cinemas. In this as in many other respects, the modern return to -heathenism has been a return not even to the heathen youth but rather to -the heathen old age. But the causes of it were spiritual in both cases; -and especially the spirit of paganism<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_182" id="page_182">{182}</a></span> had departed with its familiar -spirits. The heart had gone out of it with its household gods, who went -along with the gods of the garden and the field and the forest. The Old -Man of the Forest was too old; he was already dying. It is said truly in -a sense that Pan died because Christ was born. It is almost as true in -another sense that men knew that Christ was born because Pan was already -dead. A void was made by the vanishing of the whole mythology of -mankind, which would have asphyxiated like a vacuum if it had not been -filled with theology. But the point for the moment is that the mythology -could not have lasted like a theology in any case. Theology is thought, -whether we agree with it or not. Mythology was never thought, and nobody -could really agree with it or disagree with it. It was a mere mood of -glamour, and when the mood went it could not be recovered. Men not only -ceased to believe in the gods, but they realised that they had never -believed in them. They had sung their praises; they had danced round -their altars. They had played the flute; they had played the fool.</p> - -<p>So came the twilight upon Arcady, and the last notes of the pipe sound -sadly from the beechen grove. In the great Virgilian poems there is -already something of the sadness; but the loves and the household gods -linger in lovely lines like that which Mr. Belloc took for a test of -understanding; <i>incipe, parve puer, risu cognoscere matrem</i>. But with -them as with us, the human family itself began to break down under -servile organisation and the herding of the towns. The urban mob became -enlightened; that is, it lost the mental energy that could create myths. -All round the circle of the Mediterranean cities the people mourned for -the loss of gods and were consoled with gladiators. And meanwhile -something similar was happening to that intellectual aristocracy of -antiquity that had been walking about and talking at large ever since -Socrates and Pythagoras. They<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_183" id="page_183">{183}</a></span> began to betray to the world the fact -that they were walking in a circle and saying the same thing over and -over again. Philosophy began to be a joke; it also began to be a bore. -That unnatural simplification of everything into one system or another, -which we have noted as the fault of the philosopher, revealed at once -its finality and its futility. Everything was virtue or everything was -happiness or everything was fate or everything was good or everything -was bad; anyhow, everything was everything and there was no more to be -said; so they said it. Everywhere the sages had degenerated into -sophists; that is, into hired rhetoricians or askers of riddles. It is -one of the symptoms of this that the sage begins to turn not only into a -sophist but into a magician. A touch of oriental occultism is very much -appreciated in the best houses. As the philosopher is already a society -entertainer, he may as well also be a conjurer.</p> - -<p>Many moderns have insisted on the smallness of that Mediterranean world; -and the wider horizons that might have awaited it with the discovery of -the other continents. But this is an illusion; one of the many illusions -of materialism. The limits that paganism had reached in Europe were the -limits of human existence; at its best it had only reached the same -limits anywhere else. The Roman stoics did not need any Chinamen to -teach them stoicism. The Pythagoreans did not need any Hindus to teach -them about recurrence or the simple life or the beauty of being a -vegetarian. In so far as they could get these things from the East, they -had already got rather too much of them from the East. The Syncretists -were as convinced as Theosophists that all religions are really the -same. And how else could they have extended philosophy merely by -extending geography? It can hardly be proposed that they should learn a -purer religion from the Aztecs or sit at the feet of the Incas of Peru. -All the rest of the world was a welter of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_184" id="page_184">{184}</a></span> barbarism. It is essential to -recognise that the Roman Empire was recognised as the highest -achievement of the human race; and also as the broadest. A dreadful -secret seemed to be written as in obscure hieroglyphics across those -mighty works of marble and stone, those colossal amphitheatres and -aqueducts. Man could do no more.</p> - -<p>For it was not the message blazed on the Babylonian wall, that one king -was found wanting or his one kingdom given to a stranger. It was no such -good news as the news of invasion and conquest. There was nothing left -that could conquer Rome; but there was also nothing left that could -improve it. It was the strongest thing that was growing weak. It was the -best thing that was going to the bad. It is necessary to insist again -and again that many civilisations had met in one civilisation of the -Mediterranean sea; that it was already universal with a stale and -sterile universality. The peoples had pooled their resources and still -there was not enough. The empires had gone into partnership and they -were still bankrupt. No philosopher who was really philosophical could -think anything except that, in that central sea, the wave of the world -had risen to its highest, seeming to touch the stars. But the wave was -already stooping; for it was only the wave of the world.</p> - -<p>That mythology and that philosophy into which paganism has already been -analysed had thus both of them been drained most literally to the dregs. -If with the multiplication of magic the third department, which we have -called the demons, was even increasingly active, it was never anything -but destructive. There remains only the fourth element, or rather the -first; that which had been in a sense forgotten because it was the -first. I mean the primary and overpowering yet impalpable impression -that the universe after all has one origin and one aim; and because it -has an aim must have an author. What<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_185" id="page_185">{185}</a></span> became of this great truth in the -background of men’s minds, at this time, it is perhaps more difficult to -determine. Some of the Stoics undoubtedly saw it more and more clearly -as the clouds of mythology cleared and thinned away; and great men among -them did much even to the last to lay the foundations of a concept of -the moral unity of the world. The Jews still held their secret certainty -of it jealously behind high fences of exclusiveness; yet it is intensely -characteristic of the society and the situation that some fashionable -figures, especially fashionable ladies, actually embraced Judaism. But -in the case of many others I fancy there entered at this point a new -negation. Atheism became really possible in that abnormal time; for -atheism is abnormality. It is not merely the denial of a dogma. It is -the reversal of a subconscious assumption in the soul; the sense that -there is a meaning and a direction in the world it sees. Lucretius, the -first evolutionist who endeavoured to substitute Evolution for God, had -already dangled before men’s eyes his dance of glittering atoms, by -which he conceived cosmos as created by chaos. But it was not his strong -poetry or his sad philosophy, as I fancy, that made it possible for men -to entertain such a vision. It was something in the sense of impotence -and despair with which men shook their fists vainly at the stars, as -they saw all the best work of humanity sinking slowly and helplessly -into a swamp. They could easily believe that even creation itself was -not a creation but a perpetual fall, when they saw that the weightiest -and worthiest of all human creations was falling by its own weight. They -could fancy that all the stars were falling stars; and that the very -pillars of their own solemn porticos were bowed under a sort of gradual -Deluge. To men in that mood there was a reason for atheism that is in -some sense reasonable. Mythology might fade and philosophy might -stiffen; but if behind these things there was a reality, surely<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_186" id="page_186">{186}</a></span> that -reality might have sustained things as they sank. There was no God; if -there had been a God, surely this was the very moment when He would have -moved and saved the world.</p> - -<p>The life of the great civilisation went on with dreary industry and even -with dreary festivity. It was the end of the world, and the worst of it -was that it need never end. A convenient compromise had been made -between all the multitudinous myths and religions of the Empire; that -each group should worship freely and merely give a sort of official -flourish of thanks to the tolerant Emperor, by tossing a little incense -to him under his official title of Divus. Naturally there was no -difficulty about that; or rather it was a long time before the world -realised that there ever had been even a trivial difficulty anywhere. -The members of some eastern sect or secret society or other seemed to -have made a scene somewhere; nobody could imagine why. The incident -occurred once or twice again and began to arouse irritation out of -proportion to its insignificance. It was not exactly what these -provincials said; though of course it sounded queer enough. They seemed -to be saying that God was dead and that they themselves had seen him -die. This might be one of the many manias produced by the despair of the -age; only they did not seem particularly despairing. They seem quite -unnaturally joyful about it, and gave the reason that the death of God -had allowed them to eat him and drink his blood. According to other -accounts God was not exactly dead after all; there trailed through the -bewildered imagination some sort of fantastic procession of the funeral -of God, at which the sun turned black, but which ended with the dead -omnipotence breaking out of the tomb and rising again like the sun. But -it was not the strange story to which anybody paid any particular -attention; people in that world had seen queer religions enough to fill -a madhouse. It was something in the tone of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_187" id="page_187">{187}</a></span> the madmen and their type -of formation. They were a scratch company of barbarians and slaves and -poor and unimportant people; but their formation was military; they -moved together and were very absolute about who and what was really a -part of their little system; and about what they said, however mildly, -there was a ring like iron. Men used to many mythologies and moralities -could make no analysis of the mystery, except the curious conjecture -that they meant what they said. All attempts to make them see reason in -the perfectly simple matter of the Emperor’s statue seemed to be spoken -to deaf men. It was as if a new meteoric metal had fallen on the earth; -it was a difference of substance to the touch. Those who touched their -foundation fancied they had struck a rock.</p> - -<p>With a strange rapidity, like the changes of a dream, the proportions of -things seemed to change in their presence. Before most men knew what had -happened, these few men were palpably present. They were important -enough to be ignored. People became suddenly silent about them and -walked stiffly past them. We see a new scene, in which the world has -drawn its skirts away from these men and women and they stand in the -centre of a great space like lepers. The scene changes again and the -great space where they stand is overhung on every side with a cloud of -witnesses, interminable terraces full of faces looking down towards them -intently; for strange things are happening to them. New tortures have -been invented for the madmen who have brought good news. That sad and -weary society seems almost to find a new energy in establishing its -first religious persecution. Nobody yet knows very clearly why that -level world has thus lost its balance about the people in its midst; but -they stand unnaturally still while the arena and the world seem to -revolve round them. And there shone on them in that dark hour a light -that has never been darkened; a white fire clinging<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_188" id="page_188">{188}</a></span> to that group like -an unearthly phosphorescence, blazing its track through the twilights of -history and confounding every effort to confound it with the mists of -mythology and theory; that shaft of light or lightning by which the -world itself has struck and isolated and crowned it; by which its own -enemies have made it more illustrious and its own critics have made it -more inexplicable; the halo of hatred around the Church of God.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_189" id="page_189">{189}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="PART_II" id="PART_II"></a>PART II<br /><br /> -ON THE MAN CALLED CHRIST<br /><br /> -</h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_190" id="page_190">{190}</a></span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_191" id="page_191">{191}</a></span> </p> - -<h3><a name="CHAPTER_I-b" id="CHAPTER_I-b"></a>CHAPTER I<br /><br /> -THE GOD IN THE CAVE</h3> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">This</span> sketch of the human story began in a cave; the cave which popular -science associates with the cave-man and in which practical discovery -has really found archaic drawings of animals. The second half of human -history, which was like a new creation of the world, also begins in a -cave. There is even a shadow of such a fancy in the fact that animals -were again present; for it was a cave used as a stable by the -mountaineers of the uplands about Bethlehem; who still drive their -cattle into such holes and caverns at night. It was here that a homeless -couple had crept underground with the cattle when the doors of the -crowded caravanserai had been shut in their faces; and it was here -beneath the very feet of the passersby, in a cellar under the very floor -of the world, that Jesus Christ was born. But in that second creation -there was indeed something symbolical in the roots of the primeval rock -or the horns of the prehistoric herd. God also was a Cave-Man, and had -also traced strange shapes of creatures, curiously coloured, upon the -wall of the world; but the pictures that he made had come to life.</p> - -<p>A mass of legend and literature, which increases and will never end, has -repeated and rung the changes on that single paradox; that the hands -that had made the sun and stars were too small to reach the huge heads -of the cattle. Upon this paradox, we might almost say upon this jest, -all the literature of our faith is founded. It is at least like a jest -in this, that it is something which the scientific critic cannot<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_192" id="page_192">{192}</a></span> see. -He laboriously explains the difficulty which we have always defiantly -and almost derisively exaggerated; and mildly condemns as improbable -something that we have almost madly exalted as incredible; as something -that would be much too good to be true, except that it is true. When -that contrast between the cosmic creation and the little local infancy -has been repeated, reiterated, underlined, emphasised, exulted in, sung, -shouted, roared, not to say howled, in a hundred thousand hymns, carols, -rhymes, rituals, pictures, poems, and popular sermons, it may be -suggested that we hardly need a higher critic to draw our attention to -something a little odd about it; especially one of the sort that seems -to take a long time to see a joke, even his own joke. But about this -contrast and combination of ideas one thing may be said here, because it -is relevant to the whole thesis of this book. The sort of modern critic -of whom I speak is generally much impressed with the importance of -education in life and the importance of psychology in education. That -sort of man is never tired of telling us that first impressions fix -character by the law of causation; and he will become quite nervous if a -child’s visual sense is poisoned by the wrong colours on a golliwog or -his nervous system prematurely shaken by a cacophonous rattle. Yet he -will think us very narrow-minded if we say that this is exactly why -there really is a difference between being brought up as a Christian and -being brought up as a Jew or a Moslem or an atheist. The difference is -that every Catholic child has learned from pictures, and even every -Protestant child from stories, this incredible combination of contrasted -ideas as one of the very first impressions on his mind. It is not merely -a theological difference. It is a psychological difference which can -outlast any theologies. It really is, as that sort of scientist loves to -say about anything, incurable. Any agnostic or atheist whose childhood -has known a real Christmas has ever afterwards,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_193" id="page_193">{193}</a></span> whether he likes it or -not, an association in his mind between two ideas that most of mankind -must regard as remote from each other; the idea of a baby and the idea -of unknown strength that sustains the stars. His instincts and -imagination can still connect them, when his reason can no longer see -the need of the connection; for him there will always be some savour of -religion about the mere picture of a mother and a baby; some hint of -mercy and softening about the mere mention of the dreadful name of God. -But the two ideas are not naturally or necessarily combined. They would -not be necessarily combined for an ancient Greek or a Chinaman, even for -Aristotle or Confucius. It is no more inevitable to connect God with an -infant than to connect gravitation with a kitten. It has been created in -our minds by Christmas because we are Christians; because we are -psychological Christians even when we are not theological ones. In other -words, this combination of ideas has emphatically, in the much disputed -phrase, altered human nature. There is really a difference between the -man who knows it and the man who does not. It may not be a difference of -moral worth, for the Moslem or the Jew might be worthier according to -his lights; but it is a plain fact about the crossing of two particular -lights, the conjunction of two stars in our particular horoscope. -Omnipotence and impotence, or divinity and infancy, do definitely make a -sort of epigram which a million repetitions cannot turn into a -platitude. It is not unreasonable to call it unique. Bethlehem is -emphatically a place where extremes meet.</p> - -<p>Here begins, it is needless to say, another mighty influence for the -humanisation of Christendom. If the world wanted what is called a -non-controversial aspect of Christianity, it would probably select -Christmas. Yet it is obviously bound up with what is supposed to be a -controversial aspect (I could never at any stage of my opinions imagine -why); the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_194" id="page_194">{194}</a></span> respect paid to the Blessed Virgin. When I was a boy a more -Puritan generation objected to a statue upon a parish church -representing the Virgin and Child. After much controversy, they -compromised by taking away the Child. One would think that this was even -more corrupted with Mariolatry, unless the mother was counted less -dangerous when deprived of a sort of weapon. But the practical -difficulty is also a parable. You cannot chip away the statue of a -mother from all round that of a new-born child. You cannot suspend the -new-born child in mid-air; indeed you cannot really have a statue of a -new-born child at all. Similarly, you cannot suspend the idea of a -new-born child in the void or think of him without thinking of his -mother. You cannot visit the child without visiting the mother; you -cannot in common human life approach the child except through the -mother. If we are to think of Christ in this aspect at all, the other -idea follows as it is followed in history. We must either leave Christ -out of Christmas, or Christmas out of Christ, or we must admit, if only -as we admit it in an old picture, that those holy heads are too near -together for the haloes not to mingle and cross.</p> - -<p>It might be suggested, in a somewhat violent image, that nothing had -happened in that fold or crack in the great grey hills except that the -whole universe had been turned inside out. I mean that all the eyes of -wonder and worship which had been turned outwards to the largest thing -were now turned inward to the smallest. The very image will suggest all -that multitudinous marvel of converging eyes that makes so much of the -coloured Catholic imagery like a peacock’s tail. But it is true in a -sense that God who had been only a circumference was seen as a centre; -and a centre is infinitely small. It is true that the spiritual spiral -henceforward works inwards instead of outwards, and in that sense is -centripetal and not centrifugal. The faith becomes, in more<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_195" id="page_195">{195}</a></span> ways than -one, a religion of little things. But its traditions in art and -literature and popular fable have quite sufficiently attested, as has -been said, this particular paradox of the divine being in the cradle. -Perhaps they have not so clearly emphasised the significance of the -divine being in the cave. Curiously enough, indeed, tradition has not -very clearly emphasised the cave. It is a familiar fact that the -Bethlehem scene has been represented in every possible setting of time -and country, of landscape and architecture; and it is a wholly happy and -admirable fact that men have conceived it as quite different according -to their different individual traditions and tastes. But while all have -realised that it was a stable, not so many have realised that it was a -cave. Some critics have even been so silly as to suppose that there was -some contradiction between the stable and the cave; in which case they -cannot know much about caves or stables in Palestine. As they see -differences that are not there, it is needless to add that they do not -see differences that are there. When a well-known critic says, for -instance, that Christ being born in a rocky cavern is like Mithras -having sprung alive out of a rock, it sounds like a parody upon -comparative religion. There is such a thing as the point of a story, -even if it is a story in the sense of a lie. And the notion of a hero -appearing, like Pallas from the brain of Zeus, mature and without a -mother, is obviously the very opposite of the idea of a god being born -like an ordinary baby and entirely dependent on a mother. Whichever -ideal we might prefer, we should surely see that they are contrary -ideals. It is as stupid to connect them because they both contain a -substance called stone as to identify the punishment of the Deluge with -the baptism in the Jordan because they both contain a substance called -water. Whether as a myth or a mystery, Christ was obviously conceived as -born in a hole in the rocks primarily because it marked the position of -one<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_196" id="page_196">{196}</a></span> outcast and homeless. Nevertheless it is true, as I have said, that -the cave has not been so commonly or so clearly used as a symbol as the -other realities that surrounded the first Christmas.</p> - -<p>And the reason for this also refers to the very nature of that new -world. It was in a sense the difficulty of a new dimension. Christ was -not only born on the level of the world, but even lower than the world. -The first act of the divine drama was enacted, not only on no stage set -up above the sightseer, but on a dark and curtained stage sunken out of -sight; and that is an idea very difficult to express in most modes of -artistic expression. It is the idea of simultaneous happenings on -different levels of life. Something like it might have been attempted in -the more archaic and decorative medieval art. But the more the artists -learned of realism and perspective, the less they could depict at once -the angels in the heavens and the shepherds on the hills, and the glory -in the darkness that was under the hills. Perhaps it could have been -best conveyed by the characteristic expedient of some of the medieval -guilds, when they wheeled about the streets a theatre with three stages -one above the other, with heaven above the earth and hell under the -earth. But in the riddle of Bethlehem it was heaven that was under the -earth.</p> - -<p>There is in that alone the touch of a revolution, as of the world turned -upside down. It would be vain to attempt to say anything adequate, or -anything new, about the change which this conception of a deity born -like an outcast or even an outlaw had upon the whole conception of law -and its duties to the poor and outcast. It is profoundly true to say -that after that moment there could be no slaves. There could be and were -people bearing that legal title until the Church was strong enough to -weed them out, but there could be no more of the pagan repose in the -mere advantage to the state of keeping it a servile state. Individuals -became important, in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_197" id="page_197">{197}</a></span> a sense in which no instruments can be important. -A man could not be a means to an end, at any rate to any other man’s -end. All this popular and fraternal element in the story has been -rightly attached by tradition to the episode of the Shepherds; the hinds -who found themselves talking face to face with the princes of heaven. -But there is another aspect of the popular element as represented by the -shepherds which has not perhaps been so fully developed; and which is -more directly relevant here.</p> - -<p>Men of the people, like the shepherds, men of the popular tradition, had -everywhere been the makers of the mythologies. It was they who had felt -most directly, with least check or chill from philosophy or the corrupt -cults of civilisation, the need we have already considered; the images -that were adventures of the imagination; the mythology that was a sort -of search; the tempting and tantalising hints of something half-human in -nature; the dumb significance of seasons and special places. They had -best understood that the soul of a landscape is a story and the soul of -a story is a personality. But rationalism had already begun to rot away -these really irrational though imaginative treasures of the peasant; -even as systematic slavery had eaten the peasant out of house and home. -Upon all such peasantries everywhere there was descending a dusk and -twilight of disappointment, in the hour when these few men discovered -what they sought. Everywhere else Arcadia was fading from the forest. -Pan was dead and the shepherds were scattered like sheep. And though no -man knew it, the hour was near which was to end and to fulfil all -things; and though no man heard it, there was one far-off cry in an -unknown tongue upon the heaving wilderness of the mountains. The -shepherds had found their Shepherd.</p> - -<p>And the thing they found was of a kind with the things they sought. The -populace had been wrong in many things; but they had not been wrong in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_198" id="page_198">{198}</a></span> -believing that holy things could have a habitation and that divinity -need not disdain the limits of time and space. And the barbarian who -conceived the crudest fancy about the sun being stolen and hidden in a -box, or the wildest myth about the god being rescued and his enemy -deceived with a stone, was nearer to the secret of the cave and knew -more about the crisis of the world than all those in the circle of -cities round the Mediterranean who had become content with cold -abstractions or cosmopolitan generalisations; than all those who were -spinning thinner and thinner threads of thought out of the -transcendentalism of Plato or the orientalism of Pythagoras. The place -that the shepherds found was not an academy or an abstract republic; it -was not a place of myths allegorised or dissected or explained or -explained away. It was a place of dreams come true. Since that hour no -mythologies have been made in the world. Mythology is a search.</p> - -<p>We all know that the popular presentation of this popular story, in so -many miracle plays and carols, has given to the shepherds the costume, -the language, and the landscape of the separate English and European -countrysides. We all know that one shepherd will talk in a Somerset -dialect or another talk of driving his sheep from Conway towards the -Clyde. Most of us know by this time how true is that error, how wise, -how artistic, how intensely Christian and Catholic is that anachronism. -But some who have seen it in these scenes of medieval rusticity have -perhaps not seen it in another sort of poetry, which it is sometimes the -fashion to call artificial rather than artistic. I fear that many modern -critics will see only a faded classicism in the fact that men like -Crashaw and Herrick conceived the shepherds of Bethlehem under the form -of the shepherds of Virgil. Yet they were profoundly right; and in -turning their Bethlehem play into a Latin Eclogue they took up one of -the most important links in human history.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_199" id="page_199">{199}</a></span> Virgil, as we have already -seen, does stand for all that saner heathenism that had overthrown the -insane heathenism of human sacrifice; but the very fact that even the -Virgilian virtues and the sane heathenism were in incurable decay is the -whole problem to which the revelation to the shepherds is the solution. -If the world had ever had the chance to grow weary of being demoniac, it -might have been healed merely by becoming sane. But if it had grown -weary even of being sane, what was to happen except what did happen? Nor -is it false to conceive the Arcadian shepherd of the Eclogues as -rejoicing in what did happen. One of the Eclogues has even been claimed -as a prophecy of what did happen. But it is quite as much in the tone -and incidental diction of the great poet that we feel the potential -sympathy with the great event; and even in their own human phrases the -voices of the Virgilian shepherds might more than once have broken upon -more than the tenderness of Italy.... <i>Incipe, parve puer, risu -cognoscere matrem.</i>... They might have found in that strange place all -that was best in the last traditions of the Latins; and something better -than a wooden idol standing up for ever for the pillar of the human -family; a Household God. But they and all the other mythologists would -be justified in rejoicing that the event had fulfilled not merely the -mysticism but the materialism of mythology. Mythology had many sins; but -it had not been wrong in being as carnal as the Incarnation. With -something of the ancient voice that was supposed to have rung through -the groves, it could cry again, ‘We have seen, he hath seen us, a -visible god.’ So the ancient shepherds might have danced, and their feet -have been beautiful upon the mountains, rejoicing over the philosophers. -But the philosophers had also heard.</p> - -<p>It is still a strange story, though an old one, how they came out of -orient lands, crowned with the majesty of kings and clothed with -something of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_200" id="page_200">{200}</a></span> mystery of magicians. That truth that is tradition has -wisely remembered them almost as unknown quantities, as mysterious as -their mysterious and melodious names: Melchior, Caspar, Balthazar. But -there came with them all that world of wisdom that had watched the stars -in Chaldea and the sun in Persia; and we shall not be wrong if we see in -them the same curiosity that moves all the sages. They would stand for -the same human ideal if their names had really been Confucius or -Pythagoras or Plato. They were those who sought not tales but the truth -of things; and since their thirst for truth was itself a thirst for God, -they also have had their reward. But even in order to understand that -reward, we must understand that for philosophy as much as mythology, -that reward was the completion of the incomplete.</p> - -<p>Such learned men would doubtless have come, as these learned men did -come, to find themselves confirmed in much that was true in their own -traditions and right in their own reasoning. Confucius would have found -a new foundation for the family in the very reversal of the Holy Family; -Buddha would have looked upon a new renunciation, of stars rather than -jewels and divinity than royalty. These learned men would still have the -right to say, or rather a new right to say, that there was truth in -their old teaching. But, after all, these learned men would have come to -learn. They would have come to complete their conceptions with something -they had not yet conceived; even to balance their imperfect universe -with something they might once have contradicted. Buddha would have come -from his impersonal paradise to worship a person. Confucius would have -come from his temples of ancestor-worship to worship a child.</p> - -<p>We must grasp from the first this character in the new cosmos: that it -was larger than the old cosmos. In that sense Christendom is larger than -creation; as creation had been before Christ. It included things that -had not been there; it also included the things<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_201" id="page_201">{201}</a></span> that had been there. -The point happens to be well illustrated in this example of Chinese -piety, but it would be true of other pagan virtues or pagan beliefs. -Nobody can doubt that a reasonable respect for parents is part of a -gospel in which God himself was subject in childhood to earthly parents. -But the other sense in which the parents were subject to him does -introduce an idea that is not Confucian. The infant Christ is not like -the infant Confucius; our mysticism conceives him in an immortal -infancy. I do not know what Confucius would have done with the Bambino, -had it come to life in his arms as it did in the arms of St. Francis. -But this is true in relation to all the other religions and -philosophies; it is the challenge of the Church. The Church contains -what the world does not contain. Life itself does not provide as she -does for all sides of life. That every other single system is narrow and -insufficient compared to this one; that is not a rhetorical boast; it is -a real fact and a real dilemma. Where is the Holy Child amid the Stoics -and the ancestor-worshippers? Where is Our Lady of the Moslems, a woman -made for no man and set above all angels? Where is St. Michael of the -monks of Buddha, rider and master of the trumpets, guarding for every -soldier the honour of the sword? What could St. Thomas Aquinas do with -the mythology of Brahminism, he who set forth all the science and -rationality and even rationalism of Christianity? Yet even if we compare -Aquinas with Aristotle, at the other extreme of reason, we shall find -the same sense of something added. Aquinas could understand the most -logical parts of Aristotle; it is doubtful if Aristotle could have -understood the most mystical parts of Aquinas. Even where we can hardly -call the Christian greater, we are forced to call him larger. But it is -so to whatever philosophy or heresy or modern movement we may turn. How -would Francis the Troubadour have fared among the Calvinists, or for -that matter<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_202" id="page_202">{202}</a></span> among the Utilitarians of the Manchester School? Yet men -like Bossuet and Pascal could be as stern and logical as any Calvinist -or Utilitarian. How would St. Joan of Arc, a woman waving on men to war -with the sword, have fared among the Quakers or the Doukhabors or the -Tolstoyan sect of pacifists? Yet any number of Catholic saints have -spent their lives in preaching peace and preventing wars. It is the same -with all the modern attempts at Syncretism. They are never able to make -something larger than the Creed without leaving something out. I do not -mean leaving out something divine but something human; the flag or the -inn or the boy’s tale of battle or the hedge at the end of the field. -The Theosophists build a pantheon; but it is only a pantheon for -pantheists. They call a Parliament of Religions as a reunion of all the -peoples; but it is only a reunion of all the prigs. Yet exactly such a -pantheon had been set up two thousand years before by the shores of the -Mediterranean; and Christians were invited to set up the image of Jesus -side by side with the image of Jupiter, of Mithras, of Osiris, of Atys, -or of Ammon. It was the refusal of the Christians that was the -turning-point of history. If the Christians had accepted, they and the -whole world would have certainly, in a grotesque but exact metaphor, -gone to pot. They would all have been boiled down to one lukewarm liquid -in that great pot of cosmopolitan corruption in which all the other -myths and mysteries were already melting. It was an awful and an -appalling escape. Nobody understands the nature of the Church, or the -ringing note of the creed descending from antiquity, who does not -realise that the whole world once very nearly died of broadmindedness -and the brotherhood of all religions.</p> - -<p>Here it is the important point that the Magi, who stand for mysticism -and philosophy, are truly conceived as seeking something new and even as -finding something unexpected. That tense sense of crisis<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_203" id="page_203">{203}</a></span> which still -tingles in the Christmas story, and even in every Christmas celebration, -accentuates the idea of a search and a discovery. The discovery is, in -this case, truly a scientific discovery. For the other mystical figures -in the miracle play, for the angel and the mother, the shepherds and the -soldiers of Herod, there may be aspects both simpler and more -supernatural, more elemental or more emotional. But the Wise Men must be -seeking wisdom; and for them there must be a light also in the -intellect. And this is the light: that the Catholic creed is catholic -and that nothing else is catholic. The philosophy of the Church is -universal. The philosophy of the philosophers was not universal. Had -Plato and Pythagoras and Aristotle stood for an instant in the light -that came out of that little cave, they would have known that their own -light was not universal. It is far from certain, indeed, that they did -not know it already. Philosophy also, like mythology, had very much the -air of a search. It is the realisation of this truth that gives its -traditional majesty and mystery to the figures of the Three Kings; the -discovery that religion is broader than philosophy and that this is the -broadest of religions, contained within this narrow space. The Magicians -were gazing at the strange pentacle with the human triangle reversed; -and they have never come to the end of their calculations about it. For -it is the paradox of that group in the cave, that while our emotions -about it are of childish simplicity, our thoughts about it can branch -with a never-ending complexity. And we can never reach the end even of -our own ideas about the child who was a father and the mother who was a -child.</p> - -<p>We might well be content to say that mythology had come with the -shepherds and philosophy with the philosophers; and that it only -remained for them to combine in the recognisation of religion. But there -was a third element that must not be ignored and one which that religion -for ever refuses to ignore,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_204" id="page_204">{204}</a></span> in any revel or reconciliation. There was -present in the primary scenes of the drama that Enemy that had rotted -the legends with lust and frozen the theories into atheism, but which -answered the direct challenge with something of that more direct method -which we have seen in the conscious cult of the demons. In the -description of that demon-worship, of the devouring detestation of -innocence shown in the works of its witchcraft and the most inhuman of -its human sacrifice, I have said less of its indirect and secret -penetration of the saner paganism; the soaking of mythological -imagination with sex; the rise of imperial pride into insanity. But both -the indirect and the direct influence make themselves felt in the drama -of Bethlehem. A ruler under the Roman suzerainty, probably equipped and -surrounded with the Roman ornament and order though himself of eastern -blood, seems in that hour to have felt stirring within him the spirit of -strange things. We all know the story of how Herod, alarmed at some -rumour of a mysterious rival, remembered the wild gesture of the -capricious despots of Asia and ordered a massacre of suspects of the new -generation of the populace. Every one knows the story; but not every one -has perhaps noted its place in the story of the strange religions of -men. Not everybody has seen the significance even of its very contrast -with the Corinthian columns and Roman pavement of that conquered and -superficially civilised world. Only, as the purpose in his dark spirit -began to show and shine in the eyes of the Idumean, a seer might perhaps -have seen something like a great grey ghost that looked over his -shoulder; have seen behind him, filling the dome of night and hovering -for the last time over history, that vast and fearful face that was -Moloch of the Carthaginians; awaiting his last tribute from a ruler of -the races of Shem. The demons also, in that first festival of Christmas, -feasted after their own fashion.</p> - -<p>Unless we understand the presence of that Enemy,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_205" id="page_205">{205}</a></span> we shall not only miss -the point of Christianity, but even miss the point of Christmas. -Christmas for us in Christendom has become one thing, and in one sense -even a simple thing. But, like all the truths of that tradition, it is -in another sense a very complex thing. Its unique note is the -simultaneous striking of many notes; of humility, of gaiety, of -gratitude, of mystical fear, but also of vigilance and of drama. It is -not only an occasion for the peacemakers any more than for the -merrymakers; it is not only a Hindu peace conference any more than it is -only a Scandinavian winter feast. There is something defiant in it also; -something that makes the abrupt bells at midnight sound like the great -guns of a battle that has just been won. All this indescribable thing -that we call the Christmas atmosphere only hangs in the air as something -like a lingering fragrance or fading vapour from the exultant explosion -of that one hour in the Judean hills nearly two thousand years ago. But -the savour is still unmistakable, and it is something too subtle or too -solitary to be covered by our use of the word peace. By the very nature -of the story the rejoicings in the cavern were rejoicings in a fortress -or an outlaw’s den; properly understood it is not unduly flippant to say -they were rejoicings in a dug-out. It is not only true that such a -subterranean chamber was a hiding-place from enemies; and that the -enemies were already scouring the stony plain that lay above it like a -sky. It is not only that the very horse-hoofs of Herod might in that -sense have passed like thunder over the sunken head of Christ. It is -also that there is in that image a true idea of an outpost, of a -piercing through the rock and an entrance into an enemy territory. There -is in this buried divinity an idea of <i>undermining</i> the world; of -shaking the towers and palaces from below; even as Herod the great king -felt that earthquake under him and swayed with his swaying palace.</p> - -<p>That is perhaps the mightiest of the mysteries of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_206" id="page_206">{206}</a></span> the cave. It is -already apparent that though men are said to have looked for hell under -the earth, in this case it is rather heaven that is under the earth. And -there follows in this strange story the idea of an upheaval of heaven. -That is the paradox of the whole position; that henceforth the highest -thing can only work from below. Royalty can only return to its own by a -sort of rebellion. Indeed the Church from its beginnings, and perhaps -especially in its beginnings, was not so much a principality as a -revolution against the prince of the world. This sense that the world -had been conquered by the great usurper, and was in his possession, has -been much deplored or derided by those optimists who identify -enlightenment with ease. But it was responsible for all that thrill of -defiance and a beautiful danger that made the good news seem to be -really both good and new. It was in truth against a huge unconscious -usurpation that it raised a revolt, and originally so obscure a revolt. -Olympus still occupied the sky like a motionless cloud moulded into many -mighty forms; philosophy still sat in the high places and even on the -thrones of the kings, when Christ was born in the cave and Christianity -in the catacombs.</p> - -<p>In both cases we may remark the same paradox of revolution; the sense of -something despised and of something feared. The cave in one aspect is -only a hole or corner into which the outcasts are swept like rubbish; -yet in the other aspect it is a hiding-place of something valuable which -the tyrants are seeking like treasure. In one sense they are there -because the innkeeper would not even remember them, and in another -because the king can never forget them. We have already noted that this -paradox appeared also in the treatment of the early Church. It was -important while it was still insignificant, and certainly while it was -still impotent. It was important solely because it was intolerable; and -in that sense it is true to say that it was intolerable because it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_207" id="page_207">{207}</a></span> -intolerant. It was resented, because, in its own still and almost secret -way, it had declared war. It had risen out of the ground to wreck the -heaven and earth of heathenism. It did not try to destroy all that -creation of gold and marble; but it contemplated a world without it. It -dared to look right through it as though the gold and marble had been -glass. Those who charged the Christians with burning down Rome with -firebrands were slanderers; but they were at least far nearer to the -nature of Christianity than those among the moderns who tell us that the -Christians were a sort of ethical society, being martyred in a languid -fashion for telling men they had a duty to their neighbours, and only -mildly disliked because they were meek and mild.</p> - -<p>Herod had his place, therefore, in the miracle play of Bethlehem because -he is the menace to the Church Militant and shows it from the first as -under persecution and fighting for its life. For those who think this a -discord, it is a discord that sounds simultaneously with the Christmas -bells. For those who think the idea of the Crusade is one that spoils -the idea of the Cross, we can only say that for them the idea of the -Cross is spoiled; the idea of the Cross is spoiled quite literally in -the Cradle. It is not here to the purpose to argue with them on the -abstract ethics of fighting; the purpose in this place is merely to sum -up the combination of ideas that make up the Christian and Catholic -idea, and to note that all of them are already crystallised in the first -Christmas story. They are three distinct and commonly contrasted things -which are nevertheless one thing; but this is the only thing which can -make them one. The first is the human instinct for a heaven that shall -be as literal and almost as local as a home. It is the idea pursued by -all poets and pagans making myths; that a particular place must be the -shrine of the god or the abode of the blest; that fairyland is a land; -or that the return of the ghost must be the resurrection<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_208" id="page_208">{208}</a></span> of the body. I -do not here reason about the refusal of rationalism to satisfy this -need. I only say that if the rationalists refuse to satisfy it, the -pagans will not be satisfied. This is present in the story of Bethlehem -and Jerusalem as it is present in the story of Delos and Delphi; and as -it is <i>not</i> present in the whole universe of Lucretius or the whole -universe of Herbert Spencer. The second element is a philosophy <i>larger</i> -than other philosophies; larger than that of Lucretius and infinitely -larger than that of Herbert Spencer. It looks at the world through a -hundred windows where the ancient stoic or the modern agnostic only -looks through one. It sees life with thousands of eyes belonging to -thousands of different sorts of people, where the other is only the -individual standpoint of a stoic or an agnostic. It has something for -all moods of man, it finds work for all kinds of men, it understands -secrets of psychology, it is aware of depths of evil, it is able to -distinguish between real and unreal marvels and miraculous exceptions, -it trains itself in tact about hard cases, all with a multiplicity and -subtlety and imagination about the varieties of life which is far beyond -the bald or breezy platitudes of most ancient or modern moral -philosophy. In a word, there is more in it; it finds more in existence -to think about; it gets more out of life. Masses of this material about -our many-sided life have been added since the time of St. Thomas -Aquinas. But St. Thomas Aquinas alone would have found himself limited -in the world of Confucius or of Comte. And the third point is this: that -while it is local enough for poetry and larger than any other -philosophy, it is also a challenge and a fight. While it is deliberately -broadened to embrace every aspect of truth, it is still stiffly -embattled against every mode of error. It gets every kind of man to -fight for it, it gets every kind of weapon to fight with, it widens its -knowledge of the things that are fought for and against with every art -of curiosity<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_209" id="page_209">{209}</a></span> or sympathy; but it never forgets that it is fighting. It -proclaims peace on earth and never forgets why there was war in heaven.</p> - -<p>This is the trinity of truths symbolised here by the three types in the -old Christmas story: the shepherds and the kings and that other king who -warred upon the children. It is simply not true to say that other -religions and philosophies are in this respect its rivals. It is not -true to say that any one of them combines these characters; it is not -true to say that any one of them pretends to combine them. Buddhism may -profess to be equally mystical; it does not even profess to be equally -military. Islam may profess to be equally military; it does not even -profess to be equally metaphysical and subtle. Confucianism may profess -to satisfy the need of the philosophers for order and reason; it does -not even profess to satisfy the need of the mystics for miracle and -sacrament and the consecration of concrete things. There are many -evidences of this presence of a spirit at once universal and unique. One -will serve here which is the symbol of the subject of this chapter; that -no other story, no pagan legend or philosophical anecdote or historical -event, does in fact affect any of us with that peculiar and even -poignant impression produced on us by the word Bethlehem. No other birth -of a god or childhood of a sage seems to us to be Christmas or anything -like Christmas. It is either too cold or too frivolous, or too formal -and classical, or too simple and savage, or too occult and complicated. -Not one of us, whatever his opinions, would ever go to such a scene with -the sense that he was going home. He might admire it because it was -poetical, or because it was philosophical, or any number of other things -in separation; but not because it was itself. The truth is that there is -a quite peculiar and individual character about the hold of this story -on human nature; it is not in its psychological substance at all like a -mere legend or the life of a great man. It does<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_210" id="page_210">{210}</a></span> not exactly in the -ordinary sense turn our minds to greatness; to those extensions and -exaggerations of humanity which are turned into gods and heroes, even by -the healthiest sort of hero-worship. It does not exactly work outwards, -adventurously, to the wonders to be found at the ends of the earth. It -is rather something that surprises us from behind, from the hidden and -personal part of our being; like that which can sometimes take us off -our guard in the pathos of small objects or the blind pieties of the -poor. It is rather as if a man had found an inner room in the very heart -of his own house which he had never suspected; and seen a light from -within. It is as if he found something at the back of his own heart that -betrayed him into good. It is not made of what the world would call -strong materials; or rather it is made of materials whose strength is in -that winged levity with which they brush us and pass. It is all that is -in us but a brief tenderness that is there made eternal; all that means -no more than a momentary softening that is in some strange fashion -become a strengthening and a repose; it is the broken speech and the -lost word that are made positive and suspended unbroken; as the strange -kings fade into a far country and the mountains resound no more with the -feet of the shepherds; and only the night and the cavern lie in fold -upon fold over something more human than humanity.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_211" id="page_211">{211}</a></span></p> - -<h3><a name="CHAPTER_II-b" id="CHAPTER_II-b"></a>CHAPTER II<br /><br /> -THE RIDDLES OF THE GOSPEL</h3> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">To</span> understand the nature of this chapter, it is necessary to recur to -the nature of this book. The argument which is meant to be the backbone -of the book is of the kind called the <i>reductio ad absurdum</i>. It -suggests that the results of assuming the rationalist thesis are more -irrational than ours; but to prove it we must assume that thesis. Thus -in the first section I often treated man as merely an animal, to show -that the effect was more impossible than if he were treated as an angel. -In the sense in which it was necessary to treat man merely as an animal, -it is necessary to treat Christ merely as a man. I have to suspend my -own beliefs, which are much more positive; and assume this limitation -even in order to remove it. I must try to imagine what would happen to a -man who did really read the story of Christ as the story of a man; and -even of a man of whom he had never heard before. And I wish to point out -that a really impartial reading of that kind would lead, if not -immediately to belief, at least to a bewilderment of which there is -really no solution except in belief. In this chapter, for this reason, I -shall bring in nothing of the spirit of my own creed; I shall exclude -the very style of diction, and even of lettering, which I should think -fitting in speaking in my own person. I am speaking as an imaginary -heathen human being, honestly staring at the Gospel story for the first -time.</p> - -<p>Now it is not at all easy to regard the New Testament as a New -Testament. It is not at all easy to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_212" id="page_212">{212}</a></span> realise the good news as new. Both -for good and evil familiarity fills us with assumptions and -associations; and no man of our civilisation, whatever he thinks of our -religion, can really read the thing as if he had never heard of it -before. Of course it is in any case utterly unhistorical to talk as if -the New Testament were a neatly bound book that had fallen from heaven. -It is simply the selection made by the authority of the Church from a -mass of early Christian literature. But apart from any such question, -there is a psychological difficulty in feeling the New Testament as new. -There is a psychological difficulty in seeing those well-known words -simply as they stand and without going beyond what they intrinsically -stand for. And this difficulty must indeed be very great; for the result -of it is very curious. The result of it is that most modern critics and -most current criticism, even popular criticism, makes a comment that is -the exact reverse of the truth. It is so completely the reverse of the -truth that one could almost suspect that they had never read the New -Testament at all.</p> - -<p>We have all heard people say a hundred times over, for they seem never -to tire of saying it, that the Jesus of the New Testament is indeed a -most merciful and humane lover of humanity, but that the Church has -hidden this human character in repellent dogmas and stiffened it with -ecclesiastical terrors till it has taken on an inhuman character. This -is, I venture to repeat, very nearly the reverse of the truth. The truth -is that it is the image of Christ in the churches that is almost -entirely mild and merciful. It is the image of Christ in the Gospels -that is a good many other things as well. The figure in the Gospels does -indeed utter in words of almost heart-breaking beauty his pity for our -broken hearts. But they are very far from being the only sort of words -that he utters. Nevertheless they are almost the only kind of words that -the Church in its popular imagery ever repre<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_213" id="page_213">{213}</a></span>sents him as uttering. That -popular imagery is inspired by a perfectly sound popular instinct. The -mass of the poor are broken, and the mass of the people are poor, and -for the mass of mankind the main thing is to carry the conviction of the -incredible compassion of God. But nobody with his eyes open can doubt -that it is chiefly this idea of compassion that the popular machinery of -the Church does seek to carry. The popular imagery carries a great deal -to excess the sentiment of ‘Gentle Jesus, meek and mild.’ It is the -first thing that the outsider feels and criticises in a Pietà or a -shrine of the Sacred Heart. As I say, while the art may be insufficient, -I am not sure that the instinct is unsound. In any case there is -something appalling, something that makes the blood run cold, in the -idea of having a statue of Christ in wrath. There is something -insupportable even to the imagination in the idea of turning the corner -of a street or coming out into the spaces of a market-place to meet the -petrifying petrifaction of <i>that</i> figure as it turned upon a generation -of vipers, or that face as it looked at the face of a hypocrite. The -Church can reasonably be justified therefore if she turns the most -merciful face or aspect towards men; but it is certainly the most -merciful aspect that she does turn. And the point is here that it is -very much more specially and exclusively merciful than any impression -that could be formed by a man merely reading the New Testament for the -first time. A man simply taking the words of the story as they stand -would form quite another impression; an impression full of mystery and -possibly of inconsistency; but certainly not merely an impression of -mildness. It would be intensely interesting; but part of the interest -would consist in its leaving a good deal to be guessed at or explained. -It is full of sudden gestures evidently significant except that we -hardly know what they signify; of enigmatic silences; of ironical -replies. The outbreaks of wrath, like storms above<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_214" id="page_214">{214}</a></span> our atmosphere, do -not seem to break out exactly where we should expect them, but to follow -some higher weather-chart of their own. The Peter whom popular Church -teaching presents is very rightly the Peter to whom Christ said in -forgiveness, ‘Feed my lambs.’ He is not the Peter upon whom Christ -turned as if he were the devil, crying in that obscure wrath, ‘Get thee -behind me, Satan.’ Christ lamented with nothing but love and pity over -Jerusalem which was to murder him. We do not know what strange spiritual -atmosphere or spiritual insight led him to sink Bethsaida lower in the -pit than Sodom. I am putting aside for the moment all questions of -doctrinal inferences or expositions, orthodox or otherwise; I am simply -imagining the effect on a man’s mind if he did really do what these -critics are always talking about doing; if he did really read the New -Testament without reference to orthodoxy and even without reference to -doctrine. He would find a number of things which fit in far less with -the current unorthodoxy than they do with the current orthodoxy. He -would find, for instance, that if there are any descriptions that -deserved to be called realistic, they are precisely the descriptions of -the supernatural. If there is one aspect of the New Testament Jesus in -which he may be said to present himself eminently as a practical person, -it is in the aspect of an exorcist. There is nothing meek and mild, -there is nothing even in the ordinary sense mystical, about the tone of -the voice that says ‘Hold thy peace and come out of him.’ It is much -more like the tone of a very business-like lion-tamer or a strong-minded -doctor dealing with a homicidal maniac. But this is only a side issue -for the sake of illustration; I am not now raising these controversies; -but considering the case of the imaginary man from the moon to whom the -New Testament is new.</p> - -<p>Now the first thing to note is that if we take it merely as a human -story, it is in some ways a very<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_215" id="page_215">{215}</a></span> strange story. I do not refer here to -its tremendous and tragic culmination or to any implications involving -triumph in that tragedy. I do not refer to what is commonly called the -miraculous element; for on that point philosophies vary and modern -philosophies very decidedly waver. Indeed the educated Englishman of -to-day may be said to have passed from an old fashion, in which he would -not believe in any miracles unless they were ancient, and adopted a new -fashion in which he will not believe in any miracles unless they are -modern. He used to hold that miraculous cures stopped with the first -Christians and is now inclined to suspect that they began with the first -Christian Scientists. But I refer here rather specially to unmiraculous -and even to unnoticed and inconspicuous parts of the story. There are a -great many things about it which nobody would have invented, for they -are things that nobody has ever made any particular use of; things which -if they were remarked at all have remained rather as puzzles. For -instance, there is that long stretch of silence in the life of Christ up -to the age of thirty. It is of all silences the most immense and -imaginatively impressive. But it is not the sort of thing that anybody -is particularly likely to invent in order to prove something; and nobody -so far as I know has ever tried to prove anything in particular from it. -It is impressive, but it is only impressive as a fact; there is nothing -particularly popular or obvious about it as a fable. The ordinary trend -of hero-worship and myth-making is much more likely to say the precise -opposite. It is much more likely to say (as I believe some of the -gospels rejected by the Church do say) that Jesus displayed a divine -precocity and began his mission at a miraculously early age. And there -is indeed something strange in the thought that he who of all humanity -needed least preparation seems to have had most. Whether it was some -mode of the divine humility, or some truth of which we<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_216" id="page_216">{216}</a></span> see the shadow -in the longer domestic tutelage of the higher creatures of the earth, I -do not propose to speculate; I mention it simply as an example of the -sort of thing that does in any case give rise to speculations, quite -apart from recognised religious speculations. Now the whole story is -full of these things. It is not by any means, as baldly presented in -print, a story that it is easy to get to the bottom of. It is anything -but what these people talk of as a simple Gospel. Relatively speaking, -it is the Gospel that has the mysticism and the Church that has the -rationalism. As I should put it, of course, it is the Gospel that is the -riddle and the Church that is the answer. But whatever be the answer, -the Gospel as it stands is almost a book of riddles.</p> - -<p>First, a man reading the Gospel sayings would not find platitudes. If he -had read even in the most respectful spirit the majority of ancient -philosophers and of modern moralists, he would appreciate the unique -importance of saying that he did not find platitudes. It is more than -can be said even of Plato. It is much more than can be said of Epictetus -or Seneca or Marcus Aurelius or Apollonius of Tyana. And it is -immeasurably more than can be said of most of the agnostic moralists and -the preachers of the ethical societies; with their songs of service and -their religion of brotherhood. The morality of most moralists, ancient -and modern, has been one solid and polished cataract of platitudes -flowing for ever and ever. That would certainly not be the impression of -the imaginary independent outsider studying the New Testament. He would -be conscious of nothing so commonplace and in a sense of nothing so -continuous as that stream. He would find a number of strange claims that -might sound like the claim to be the brother of the sun and moon; a -number of very startling pieces of advice; a number of stunning rebukes; -a number of strangely beautiful stories. He would see some very -gigantesque figures of speech<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_217" id="page_217">{217}</a></span> about the impossibility of threading a -needle with a camel or the possibility of throwing a mountain into the -sea. He would see a number of very daring simplifications of the -difficulties of life; like the advice to shine upon everybody -indifferently as does the sunshine or not to worry about the future any -more than the birds. He would find on the other hand some passages of -almost impenetrable darkness, so far as he is concerned, such as the -moral of the parable of the Unjust Steward. Some of these things might -strike him as fables and some as truths; but none as truisms. For -instance, he would not find the ordinary platitudes in favour of peace. -He would find several paradoxes in favour of peace. He would find -several ideals of non-resistance, which taken as they stand would be -rather too pacific for any pacifist. He would be told in one passage to -treat a robber <i>not</i> with passive resistance, but rather with positive -and enthusiastic encouragement, if the terms be taken literally; heaping -up gifts upon the man who had stolen goods. But he would not find a word -of all that obvious rhetoric against war which has filled countless -books and odes and orations; not a word about the wickedness of war, the -wastefulness of war, the appalling scale of the slaughter in war and all -the rest of the familiar frenzy; indeed not a word about war at all. -There is nothing that throws any particular light on Christ’s attitude -towards organised warfare, except that he seems to have been rather fond -of Roman soldiers. Indeed it is another perplexity, speaking from the -same external and human standpoint, that he seems to have got on much -better with Romans than he did with Jews. But the question here is a -certain tone to be appreciated by merely reading a certain text; and we -might give any number of instances of it.</p> - -<p>The statement that the meek shall inherit the earth is very far from -being a meek statement. I mean it is not meek in the ordinary sense of -mild and moderate<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_218" id="page_218">{218}</a></span> and inoffensive. To justify it, it would be necessary -to go very deep into history and anticipate things undreamed of then and -by many unrealised even now; such as the way in which the mystical monks -reclaimed the lands which the practical kings had lost. If it was a -truth at all, it was because it was a prophecy. But certainly it was not -a truth in the sense of a truism. The blessing upon the meek would seem -to be a very violent statement; in the sense of doing violence to reason -and probability. And with this we come to another important stage in the -speculation. As a prophecy it really was fulfilled; but it was only -fulfilled long afterwards. The monasteries were the most practical and -prosperous estates and experiments in reconstruction after the barbaric -deluge; the meek did really inherit the earth. But nobody could have -known anything of the sort at the time—unless indeed there was one who -knew. Something of the same thing may be said about the incident of -Martha and Mary; which has been interpreted in retrospect and from the -inside by the mystics of the Christian contemplative life. But it was -not at all an obvious view of it; and most moralists, ancient and -modern, could be trusted to make a rush for the obvious. What torrents -of effortless eloquence would have flowed from them to swell any slight -superiority on the part of Martha; what splendid sermons about the Joy -of Service and the Gospel of Work and the World Left Better Than We -Found It, and generally all the ten thousand platitudes that can be -uttered in favour of taking trouble—by people who need take no trouble -to utter them. If in Mary the mystic and child of love Christ was -guarding the seed of something more subtle, who was likely to understand -it at the time? Nobody else could have seen Clare and Catherine and -Teresa shining above the little roof at Bethany. It is so in another way -with that magnificent menace about bringing into the world a sword to -sunder and divide.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_219" id="page_219">{219}</a></span> Nobody could have guessed then either how it could -be fulfilled or how it could be justified. Indeed some freethinkers are -still so simple as to fall into the trap and be shocked at a phrase so -deliberately defiant. They actually complain of the paradox for not -being a platitude.</p> - -<p>But the point here is that if we <i>could</i> read the Gospel reports as -things as new as newspaper reports, they would puzzle us and perhaps -terrify us much <i>more</i> than the same things as developed by historical -Christianity. For instance; Christ after a clear allusion to the eunuchs -of eastern courts, said there would be eunuchs of the kingdom of heaven. -If this does not mean the voluntary enthusiasm of virginity, it could -only be made to mean something much more unnatural or uncouth. It is the -historical religion that humanises it for us by experience of -Franciscans or of Sisters of Mercy. The mere statement standing by -itself might very well suggest a rather dehumanised atmosphere; the -sinister and inhuman silence of the Asiatic harem and divan. This is but -one instance out of scores; but the moral is that the Christ of the -Gospel might actually seem more strange and terrible than the Christ of -the Church.</p> - -<p>I am dwelling on the dark or dazzling or defiant or mysterious side of -the Gospel words, not because they had not obviously a more obvious and -popular side, but because this is the answer to a common criticism on a -vital point. The freethinker frequently says that Jesus of Nazareth was -a man of his time, even if he was in advance of his time; and that we -cannot accept his ethics as final for humanity. The freethinker then -goes on to criticise his ethics, saying plausibly enough that men cannot -turn the other cheek, or that they must take thought for the morrow, or -that the self-denial is too ascetic or the monogamy too severe. But the -Zealots and the Legionaries did not turn the other cheek any more than -we do, if so much. The Jewish traders and Roman tax-gatherers<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_220" id="page_220">{220}</a></span> took -thought for the morrow as much as we, if not more. We cannot pretend to -be abandoning the morality of the past for one more suited to the -present. It is certainly not the morality of another age, but it might -be of another world.</p> - -<p>In short, we can say that these ideals are impossible in themselves. -Exactly what we cannot say is that they are impossible for us. They are -rather notably marked by a mysticism which, if it be a sort of madness, -would always have struck the same sort of people as mad. Take, for -instance, the case of marriage and the relations of the sexes. It might -very well have been true that a Galilean teacher taught things natural -to a Galilean environment; but it is not. It might rationally be -expected that a man in the time of Tiberius would have advanced a view -conditioned by the time of Tiberius; but he did not. What he advanced -was something quite different; something very difficult; but something -no more difficult now than it was then. When, for instance, Mahomet made -his polygamous compromise we may reasonably say that it was conditioned -by a polygamous society. When he allowed a man four wives he was really -doing something suited to the circumstances, which might have been less -suited to other circumstances. Nobody will pretend that the four wives -were like the four winds, something seemingly a part of the order of -nature; nobody will say that the figure four was written for ever in -stars upon the sky. But neither will any one say that the figure four is -an inconceivable ideal; that it is beyond the power of the mind of man -to count up to four; or to count the number of his wives and see whether -it amounts to four. It is a practical compromise carrying with it the -character of a particular society. If Mahomet had been born in Acton in -the nineteenth century, we may well doubt whether he would instantly -have filled that suburb with harems of four wives apiece. As he was born -in Arabia in the sixth<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_221" id="page_221">{221}</a></span> century, he did in his conjugal arrangements -suggest the conditions of Arabia in the sixth century. But Christ in his -view of marriage does not in the least suggest the conditions of -Palestine in the first century. He does not suggest anything at all, -except the sacramental view of marriage as developed long afterwards by -the Catholic Church. It was quite as difficult for people then as for -people now. It was much more puzzling to people then than to people now. -Jews and Romans and Greeks did not believe, and did not even understand -enough to disbelieve, the mystical idea that the man and the woman had -become one sacramental substance. We may think it an incredible or -impossible ideal; but we cannot think it any more incredible or -impossible than they would have thought it. In other words, whatever -else is true, it is not true that the controversy has been altered by -time. Whatever else is true, it is emphatically not true that the ideas -of Jesus of Nazareth were suitable to his time, but are no longer -suitable to our time. Exactly how suitable they were to his time is -perhaps suggested in the end of his story.</p> - -<p>The same truth might be stated in another way by saying that if the -story be regarded as merely human and historical, it is extraordinary -how very little there is in the recorded words of Christ that ties him -at all to his own time. I do not mean the details of a period, which -even a man of the period knows to be passing. I mean the fundamentals -which even the wisest man often vaguely assumes to be eternal. For -instance, Aristotle was perhaps the wisest and most wide-minded man who -ever lived. He founded himself entirely upon fundamentals, which have -been generally found to remain rational and solid through all social and -historical changes. Still, he lived in a world in which it was thought -as natural to have slaves as to have children. And therefore he did -permit himself a serious recognition of a difference<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_222" id="page_222">{222}</a></span> between slaves and -free men. Christ as much as Aristotle lived in a world that took slavery -for granted. He did not particularly denounce slavery. He started a -movement that could exist in a world with slavery. But he started a -movement that could exist in a world without slavery. He never used a -phrase that made his philosophy depend even upon the very existence of -the social order in which he lived. He spoke as one conscious that -everything was ephemeral, including the things that Aristotle thought -eternal. By that time the Roman Empire had come to be merely the <i>orbis -terrarum</i>, another name for the world. But he never made his morality -dependent on the existence of the Roman Empire or even on the existence -of the world. ‘Heaven and earth shall pass away; but my words shall not -pass away.’</p> - -<p>The truth is that when critics have spoken of the local limitations of -the Galilean, it has always been a case of the local limitations of the -critics. He did undoubtedly believe in certain things that one -particular modern sect of materialists do not believe. But they were not -things particularly peculiar to his time. It would be nearer the truth -to say that the denial of them is quite peculiar to our time. Doubtless -it would be nearer still to the truth to say merely that a certain -solemn social importance, in the minority disbelieving them, is peculiar -to our time. He believed, for instance, in evil spirits or in the -psychic healing of bodily ills; but not because he was a Galilean born -under Augustus. It is absurd to say that a man believed things because -he was a Galilean under Augustus when he might have believed the same -things if he had been an Egyptian under Tuten-kamen or an Indian under -Gengis Khan. But with this general question of the philosophy of -diabolism or of divine miracles I deal elsewhere. It is enough to say -that the materialists have to prove the impossibility of miracles -against the testimony of all<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_223" id="page_223">{223}</a></span> mankind, not against the prejudices of -provincials in North Palestine under the first Roman Emperors. What they -have to prove, for the present argument, is the presence in the Gospels -of those particular prejudices of those particular provincials. And, -humanly speaking, it is astonishing how little they can produce even to -make a beginning of proving it.</p> - -<p>So it is in this case of the sacrament of marriage. We may not believe -in sacraments, as we may not believe in spirits, but it is quite clear -that Christ believed in this sacrament in his own way and not in any -current or contemporary way. He certainly did not get his argument -against divorce from the Mosaic law or the Roman law or the habits of -the Palestinian people. It would appear to his critics then exactly what -it appears to his critics now; an arbitrary and transcendental dogma -coming from nowhere save in the sense that it came from him. I am not at -all concerned here to defend that dogma; the point here is that it is -just as easy to defend it now as it was to defend it then. It is an -ideal altogether outside time; difficult at any period; impossible at no -period. In other words, if any one says it is what might be expected of -a man walking about in that place at that period, we can quite fairly -answer that it is much <i>more</i> like what might be the mysterious -utterance of a being beyond man, if he walked alive among men.</p> - -<p>I maintain therefore that a man reading the New Testament frankly and -freshly would <i>not</i> get the impression of what is now often meant by a -human Christ. The merely human Christ is a made-up figure, a piece of -artificial selection, like the merely evolutionary man. Moreover there -have been too many of these human Christs found in the same story, just -as there have been too many keys to mythology found in the same stories. -Three or four separate schools of rationalism have worked over the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_224" id="page_224">{224}</a></span> -ground and produced three or four equally rational explanations of his -life. The first rational explanation of his life was that he never -lived. And this in turn gave an opportunity for three or four different -explanations; as that he was a sun-myth or a corn-myth, or any other -kind of myth that is also a monomania. Then the idea that he was a -divine being who did not exist gave place to the idea that he was a -human being who did exist. In my youth it was the fashion to say that he -was merely an ethical teacher in the manner of the Essenes, who had -apparently nothing very much to say that Hillel or a hundred other Jews -might not have said; as that it is a kindly thing to be kind and an -assistance to purification to be pure. Then somebody said he was a -madman with a Messianic delusion. Then others said he was indeed an -original teacher because he cared about nothing but Socialism; or (as -others said) about nothing but Pacifism. Then a more grimly scientific -character appeared who said that Jesus would never have been heard of at -all except for his prophecies of the end of the world. He was important -merely as a Millennarian like Dr. Cumming; and created a provincial -scare by announcing the exact date of the crack of doom. Among other -variants on the same theme was the theory that he was a spiritual healer -and nothing else; a view implied by Christian Science, which has really -to expound a Christianity without the Crucifixion in order to explain -the curing of Peter’s wife’s mother or the daughter of a centurion. -There is another theory that concentrates entirely on the business of -diabolism and what it would call the contemporary superstition about -demoniacs; as if Christ, like a young deacon taking his first orders, -had got as far as exorcism and never got any further. Now each of these -explanations in itself seems to me singularly inadequate; but taken -together they do suggest something of the very mystery which they miss.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_225" id="page_225">{225}</a></span> -There must surely have been something not only mysterious but many-sided -about Christ if so many smaller Christs can be carved out of him. If the -Christian Scientist is satisfied with him as a spiritual healer and the -Christian Socialist is satisfied with him as a social reformer, so -satisfied that they do not even expect him to be anything else, it looks -as if he really covered rather more ground than they could be expected -to expect. And it does seem to suggest that there might be more than -they fancy in these other mysterious attributes of casting out devils or -prophesying doom.</p> - -<p>Above all, would not such a new reader of the New Testament stumble over -something that would startle him much more than it startles us? I have -here more than once attempted the rather impossible task of reversing -time and the historic method; and in fancy looking forward to the facts, -instead of backward through the memories. So I have imagined the monster -that man might have seemed at first to the mere nature around him. We -should have a worse shock if we really imagined the nature of Christ -named for the first time. What should we feel at the first whisper of a -certain suggestion about a certain man? Certainly it is not for us to -blame anybody who should find that first wild whisper merely impious and -insane. On the contrary, stumbling on that rock of scandal is the first -step. Stark staring incredulity is a far more loyal tribute to that -truth than a modernist metaphysic that would make it out merely a matter -of degree. It were better to rend our robes with a great cry against -blasphemy, like Caiaphas in the judgment, or to lay hold of the man as a -maniac possessed of devils like the kinsmen and the crowd, rather than -to stand stupidly debating fine shades of pantheism in the presence of -so catastrophic a claim. There is more of the wisdom that is one with -surprise in any simple person, full of the sensitiveness of simplicity, -who<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_226" id="page_226">{226}</a></span> should expect the grass to wither and the birds to drop dead out of -the air, when a strolling carpenter’s apprentice said calmly and almost -carelessly, like one looking over his shoulder: ‘Before Abraham was, I -am.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_227" id="page_227">{227}</a></span>’</p> - -<h3><a name="CHAPTER_III-b" id="CHAPTER_III-b"></a>CHAPTER III<br /><br /> -THE STRANGEST STORY IN THE WORLD</h3> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">In</span> the last chapter I have deliberately stressed what seems to be -nowadays a neglected side of the New Testament story, but nobody will -suppose, I imagine, that it is meant to obscure that side that may truly -be called human. That Christ was and is the most merciful of judges and -the most sympathetic of friends is a fact of considerably more -importance in our own private lives than in anybody’s historical -speculations. But the purpose of this book is to point out that -something unique has been swamped in cheap generalisations; and for that -purpose it is relevant to insist that even what was most universal was -also most original. For instance, we might take a topic which really is -sympathetic to the modern mood, as the ascetic vocations recently -referred to are not. The exaltation of childhood is something which we -do really understand; but it was by no means a thing that was then in -that sense understood. If we wanted an example of the originality of the -Gospel, we could hardly take a stronger or more startling one. Nearly -two thousand years afterwards we happen to find ourselves in a mood that -does really feel the mystical charm of the child; we express it in -romances and regrets about childhood, in <i>Peter Pan</i> or <i>The Child’s -Garden of Verses</i>. And we can say of the words of Christ with so angry -an anti-Christian as Swinburne:—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘No sign that ever was given<br /></span> -<span class="i3">To faithful or faithless eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Showed ever beyond clouds riven<br /></span> -<span class="i3">So clear a paradise.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_228" id="page_228">{228}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i1">Earth’s creeds may be seventy times seven<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And blood have defiled each creed,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">But if such be the kingdom of heaven<br /></span> -<span class="i3">It must be heaven indeed.’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>But that paradise was not clear until Christianity had gradually cleared -it. The pagan world, as such, would not have understood any such thing -as a serious suggestion that a child is higher or holier than a man. It -would have seemed like the suggestion that a tadpole is higher or holier -than a frog. To the merely rationalistic mind, it would sound like -saying that a bud must be more beautiful than a flower or that an unripe -apple must be better than a ripe one. In other words, this modern -feeling is an entirely mystical feeling. It is quite as mystical as the -cult of virginity; in fact it is the cult of virginity. But pagan -antiquity had much more idea of the holiness of the virgin than of the -holiness of the child. For various reasons we have come nowadays to -venerate children; perhaps partly because we envy children for still -doing what men used to do; such as play simple games and enjoy -fairy-tales. Over and above this, however, there is a great deal of real -and subtle psychology in our appreciation of childhood; but if we turn -it into a modern discovery, we must once more admit that the historical -Jesus of Nazareth had already discovered it two thousand years too soon. -There was certainly nothing in the world around him to help him to the -discovery. Here Christ was indeed human; but more human than a human -being was then likely to be. Peter Pan does not belong to the world of -Pan but the world of Peter.</p> - -<p>Even in the matter of mere literary style, if we suppose ourselves thus -sufficiently detached to look at it in that light, there is a curious -quality to which no critic seems to have done justice. It had among -other things a singular air of piling tower upon tower by the use of the -<i>a fortiori</i>; making a pagoda of degrees like the seven heavens. I have -already noted<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_229" id="page_229">{229}</a></span> that almost inverted imaginative vision which pictured -the impossible penance of the Cities of the Plain. There is perhaps -nothing so perfect in all language or literature as the use of these -three degrees in the parable of the lilies of the field; in which he -seems first to take one small flower in his hand and note its simplicity -and even its impotence; then suddenly expands it in flamboyant colours -into all the palaces and pavilions full of a great name in national -legend and national glory; and then, by yet a third overturn, shrivels -it to nothing once more with a gesture as if flinging it away ’... and -if God so clothes the grass that to-day is and to-morrow is cast into -the oven—how much more....’ It is like the building of a good Babel -tower by white magic in a moment and in the movement of a hand; a tower -heaved suddenly up to heaven on the top of which can be seen afar off, -higher than we had fancied possible, the figure of man; lifted by three -infinities above all other things, on a starry ladder of light logic and -swift imagination. Merely in a literary sense it would be more of a -masterpiece than most of the masterpieces in the libraries; yet it seems -to have been uttered almost at random while a man might pull a flower. -But merely in a literary sense also, this use of the comparative in -several degrees has about it a quality which seems to me to hint of much -higher things than the modern suggestion of the simple teaching of -pastoral or communal ethics. There is nothing that really indicates a -subtle and in the true sense a superior mind so much as this power of -comparing a lower thing with a higher and yet that higher with a higher -still; of thinking on three planes at once. There is nothing that wants -the rarest sort of wisdom so much as to see, let us say, that the -citizen is higher than the slave and yet that the soul is infinitely -higher than the citizen or the city. It is not by any means a faculty -that commonly belongs to these simplifiers of the Gospel;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_230" id="page_230">{230}</a></span> those who -insist on what they call a simple morality and others call a sentimental -morality. It is not at all covered by those who are content to tell -everybody to remain at peace. On the contrary, there is a very striking -example of it in the apparent inconsistency between Christ’s sayings -about peace and about a sword. It is precisely this power which -perceives that while a good peace is better than a good war, even a good -war is better than a bad peace. These far-flung comparisons are nowhere -so common as in the Gospels; and to me they suggest something very vast. -So a thing solitary and solid, with the added dimension of depth or -height, might tower over the flat creatures living only on a plane.</p> - -<p>This quality of something that can only be called subtle and superior, -something that is capable of long views and even of double meanings, is -not noted here merely as a counterblast to the commonplace exaggerations -of amiability and mild idealism. It is also to be noted in connection -with the more tremendous truth touched upon at the end of the last -chapter. For this is the very last character that commonly goes with -mere megalomania; especially such steep and staggering megalomania as -might be involved in that claim. This quality that can only be called -intellectual distinction is not, of course, an evidence of divinity. But -it is an evidence of a probable distaste for vulgar and vainglorious -claims to divinity. A man of that sort, if he were only a man, would be -the last man in the world to suffer from that intoxication by one notion -from nowhere in particular, which is the mark of the self-deluding -sensationalist in religion. Nor is it even avoided by denying that -Christ did make this claim. Of no such man as that, of no other prophet -or philosopher of the same intellectual order, would it be even possible -to pretend that he had made it. Even if the Church had mistaken his -meaning, it would still be true that no<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_231" id="page_231">{231}</a></span> other historical tradition -except the Church had ever even made the same mistake. Mahomedans did -not misunderstand Mahomet and suppose he was Allah. Jews did not -misinterpret Moses and identify him with Jehovah. Why was this claim -alone exaggerated unless this alone was made? Even if Christianity was -one vast universal blunder, it is still a blunder as solitary as the -Incarnation.</p> - -<p>The purpose of these pages is to fix the falsity of certain vague and -vulgar assumptions; and we have here one of the most false. There is a -sort of notion in the air everywhere that all the religions are equal -because all the religious founders were rivals; that they are all -fighting for the same starry crown. It is quite false. The claim to that -crown, or anything like that crown, is really so rare as to be unique. -Mahomet did not make it any more than Micah or Malachi. Confucius did -not make it any more than Plato or Marcus Aurelius. Buddha never said he -was Bramah. Zoroaster no more claimed to be Ormuz than to be Ahriman. -The truth is that, in the common run of cases, it is just as we should -expect it to be, in common sense and certainly in Christian philosophy. -It is exactly the other way. Normally speaking, the greater a man is, -the less likely he is to make the very greatest claim. Outside the -unique case we are considering, the only kind of man who ever does make -that kind of claim is a very small man; a secretive or self-centred -monomaniac. Nobody can imagine Aristotle claiming to be the father of -gods and men, come down from the sky; though we might imagine some -insane Roman Emperor like Caligula claiming it for him, or more probably -for himself. Nobody can imagine Shakespeare talking as if he were -literally divine; though we might imagine some crazy American crank -finding it as a cryptogram in Shakespeare’s works, or preferably in his -own works. It is possible to find here and there human beings who make -this supremely<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_232" id="page_232">{232}</a></span> superhuman claim. It is possible to find them in lunatic -asylums; in padded cells; possibly in strait waistcoats. But what is -much more important than their mere materialistic fate in our very -materialistic society, under very crude and clumsy laws about lunacy, -the type we know as tinged with this, or tending towards it, is a -diseased and disproportionate type; narrow yet swollen and morbid to -monstrosity. It is by rather an unlucky metaphor that we talk of a -madman as cracked; for in a sense he is not cracked enough. He is -cramped rather than cracked; there are not enough holes in his head to -ventilate it. This impossibility of letting in daylight on a delusion -does sometimes cover and conceal a delusion of divinity. It can be -found, not among prophets and sages and founders of religions, but only -among a low set of lunatics. But this is exactly where the argument -becomes intensely interesting; because the argument proves too much. For -nobody supposes that Jesus of Nazareth was <i>that</i> sort of person. No -modern critic in his five wits thinks that the preacher of the Sermon on -the Mount was a horrible half-witted imbecile that might be scrawling -stars on the walls of a cell. No atheist or blasphemer believes that the -author of the Parable of the Prodigal Son was a monster with one mad -idea like a cyclops with one eye. Upon any possible historical criticism -he must be put higher in the scale of human beings than that. Yet by all -analogy we have really to put him there or else in the highest place of -all.</p> - -<p>In fact, those who can really take it (as I here hypothetically take it) -in a quite dry and detached spirit, have here a most curious and -interesting human problem. It is so intensely interesting, considered as -a human problem, that it is in a spirit quite disinterested, so to -speak, that I wish some of them had turned that intricate human problem -into something like an intelligible human portrait. If Christ was simply -a human character, he really was a highly<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_233" id="page_233">{233}</a></span> complex and contradictory -human character. For he combined exactly the two things that lie at the -two extremes of human variation. He was exactly what the man with a -delusion never is: he was wise; he was a good judge. What he said was -always unexpected; but it was always unexpectedly magnanimous and often -unexpectedly moderate. Take a thing like the point of the parable of the -tares and the wheat. It has the quality that unites sanity and subtlety. -It has not the simplicity of a madman. It has not even the simplicity of -a fanatic. It might be uttered by a philosopher a hundred years old, at -the end of a century of Utopias. Nothing could be less like this quality -of seeing beyond and all round obvious things, than the condition of the -egomaniac with the one sensitive spot on his brain. I really do not see -how these two characters could be convincingly combined, except in the -astonishing way in which the creed combines them. For until we reach the -full acceptance of the fact as a fact, however marvellous, all mere -approximations to it are actually further and further away from it. -Divinity is great enough to be divine; it is great enough to call itself -divine. But as humanity grows greater, it grows less and less likely to -do so. God is God, as the Moslems say; but a great man knows he is not -God, and the greater he is the better he knows it. That is the paradox; -everything that is merely approaching to that point is merely receding -from it. Socrates, the wisest man, knows that he knows nothing. A -lunatic may think he is omniscience, and a fool may talk as if he were -omniscient. But Christ is in another sense omniscient if he not only -knows, but knows that he knows.</p> - -<p>Even on the purely human and sympathetic side, therefore, the Jesus of -the New Testament seems to me to have in a great many ways the note of -something superhuman; that is, of something human and more than human. -But there is another quality<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_234" id="page_234">{234}</a></span> running through all his teachings which -seems to me neglected in most modern talk about them as teachings; and -that is the persistent suggestion that he has not really come to teach. -If there is one incident in the record which affects me personally as -grandly and gloriously human, it is the incident of giving wine for the -wedding-feast. That is really human in the sense in which a whole crowd -of prigs, having the appearance of human beings, can hardly be described -as human. It rises superior to all superior persons. It is as human as -Herrick and as democratic as Dickens. But even in that story there is -something else that has that note of things not fully explained; and in -a way here very relevant. I mean the first hesitation, not on any ground -touching the nature of the miracle, but on that of the propriety of -working any miracles at all, at least at that stage; ‘My time is not yet -come.’ What did that mean? At least it certainly meant a general plan or -purpose in the mind, with which certain things did or did not fit in. -And if we leave out that solitary strategic plan, we not only leave out -the point of the story, but the story.</p> - -<p>We often hear of Jesus of Nazareth as a wandering teacher; and there is -a vital truth in that view in so far as it emphasises an attitude -towards luxury and convention which most respectable people would still -regard as that of a vagabond. It is expressed in his own great saying -about the holes of the foxes and the nests of the birds, and, like many -of his great sayings, it is felt as less powerful than it is, through -lack of appreciation of that great paradox by which he spoke of his own -humanity as in some way collectively and representatively human; calling -himself simply the Son of Man; that is, in effect, calling himself -simply Man. It is fitting that the New Man or the Second Adam should -repeat in so ringing a voice and with so arresting a gesture the great -fact which came first in the original story: that man<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_235" id="page_235">{235}</a></span> differs from the -brutes by everything, even by deficiency; that he is in a sense less -normal and even less native; a stranger upon the earth. It is well to -speak of his wanderings in this sense and in the sense that he shared -the drifting life of the most homeless and hopeless of the poor. It is -assuredly well to remember that he would quite certainly have been moved -on by the police, and almost certainly arrested by the police, for -having no visible means of subsistence. For our law has in it a turn of -humour or touch of fancy which Nero and Herod never happened to think -of; that of actually punishing homeless people for not sleeping at home.</p> - -<p>But in another sense the word ‘wandering’ as applied to his life is a -little misleading. As a matter of fact, a great many of the pagan sages -and not a few of the pagan sophists might truly be described as -wandering teachers. In some of them their rambling journeys were not -altogether without a parallel in their rambling remarks. Apollonius of -Tyana, who figured in some fashionable cults as a sort of ideal -philosopher, is represented as rambling as far as the Ganges and -Ethiopia, more or less talking all the time. There was actually a school -of philosophers called the Peripatetics; and most even of the great -philosophers give us a vague impression of having very little to do -except to walk and talk. The great conversations which give us our -glimpses of the great minds of Socrates or Buddha or even Confucius -often seem to be parts of a never-ending picnic; and especially, which -is the important point, to have neither beginning nor end. Socrates did -indeed find the conversation interrupted by the incident of his -execution. But it is the whole point, and the whole particular merit, of -the position of Socrates that death was only an interruption and an -incident. We miss the real moral importance of the great philosopher if -we miss that point; that he stares at the executioner with an innocent -surprise,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_236" id="page_236">{236}</a></span> and almost an innocent annoyance, at finding any one so -unreasonable as to cut short a little conversation for the elucidation -of truth. He is looking for truth and not looking for death. Death is -but a stone in the road which can trip him up. His work in life is to -wander on the roads of the world and talk about truth for ever. Buddha, -on the other hand, did arrest attention by one gesture; it was the -gesture of renunciation, and therefore in a sense of denial. But by one -dramatic negation he passed into a world of negation that was not -dramatic; which he would have been the first to insist was not dramatic. -Here again we miss the particular moral importance of the great mystic -if we do not see the distinction; that it was his whole point that he -had done with drama, which consists of desire and struggle and generally -of defeat and disappointment. He passes into peace and lives to instruct -others how to pass into it. Henceforth his life is that of the ideal -philosopher; certainly a far more really ideal philosopher than -Apollonius of Tyana; but still a philosopher in the sense that it is not -his business to do anything but rather to explain everything; in his -case, we might almost say, mildly and softly to explode everything. For -the messages are basically different. Christ said ‘Seek first the -kingdom, and all these things shall be added unto you.’ Buddha said -‘Seek first the kingdom, and then you will need none of these things.’</p> - -<p>Now, compared to these wanderers the life of Jesus went as swift and -straight as a thunderbolt. It was above all things dramatic; it did -above all things consist in doing something that had to be done. It -emphatically would not have been done if Jesus had walked about the -world for ever doing nothing except tell the truth. And even the -external movement of it must not be described as a wandering in the -sense of forgetting that it was a journey. This is where it was a -fulfilment of the myths rather than of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_237" id="page_237">{237}</a></span> philosophies; it is a -journey with a goal and an object, like Jason going to find the Golden -Fleece, or Hercules the golden apples of the Hesperides. The gold that -he was seeking was death. The primary thing that he was going to do was -to die. He was going to do other things equally definite and objective; -we might almost say equally external and material. But from first to -last the most definite fact is that he is going to die. No two things -could possibly be more different than the death of Socrates and the -death of Christ. We are meant to feel that the death of Socrates was, -from the point of view of his friends at least, a stupid muddle and -miscarriage of justice interfering with the flow of a humane and lucid, -I had almost said a light philosophy. We are meant to feel that Death -was the bride of Christ as Poverty was the bride of St. Francis. We are -meant to feel that his life was in that sense a sort of love-affair with -death, a romance of the pursuit of the ultimate sacrifice. From the -moment when the star goes up like a birthday rocket to the moment when -the sun is extinguished like a funeral torch, the whole story moves on -wings with the speed and direction of a drama, ending in an act beyond -words.</p> - -<p>Therefore the story of Christ is the story of a journey, almost in the -manner of a military march; certainly in the manner of the quest of a -hero moving to his achievement or his doom. It is a story that begins in -the paradise of Galilee, a pastoral and peaceful land having really some -hint of Eden, and gradually climbs the rising country into the mountains -that are nearer to the storm-clouds and the stars, as to a Mountain of -Purgatory. He may be met as if straying in strange places, or stopped on -the way for discussion or dispute; but his face is set towards the -mountain city. That is the meaning of that great culmination when he -crested the ridge and stood at the turning of the road and suddenly -cried aloud, lamenting over Jerusalem. Some light touch<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_238" id="page_238">{238}</a></span> of that lament -is in every patriotic poem; or if it is absent, the patriotism stinks -with vulgarity. That is the meaning of the stirring and startling -incident at the gates of the Temple, when the tables were hurled like -lumber down the steps, and the rich merchants driven forth with bodily -blows; the incident that must be at least as much of a puzzle to the -pacifists as any paradox about non-resistance can be to any of the -militarists. I have compared the quest to the journey of Jason, but we -must never forget that in a deeper sense it is rather to be compared to -the journey of Ulysses. It was not only a romance of travel but a -romance of return; and of the end of a usurpation. No healthy boy -reading the story regards the rout of the Ithacan suitors as anything -but a happy ending. But there are doubtless some who regard the rout of -the Jewish merchants and moneychangers with that refined repugnance -which never fails to move them in the presence of violence, and -especially of violence against the well-to-do. The point here, however, -is that all these incidents have in them a character of mounting crisis. -In other words, these incidents are not incidental. When Apollonius the -ideal philosopher is brought before the judgment-seat of Domitian and -vanishes by magic, the miracle is entirely incidental. It might have -occurred at any time in the wandering life of the Tyanean; indeed, I -believe it is doubtful in date as well as in substance. The ideal -philosopher merely vanished, and resumed his ideal existence somewhere -else for an indefinite period. It is characteristic of the contrast -perhaps that Apollonius was supposed to have lived to an almost -miraculous old age. Jesus of Nazareth was less prudent in his miracles. -When Jesus was brought before the judgment-seat of Pontius Pilate, he -did not vanish. It was the crisis and the goal; it was the hour and the -power of darkness. It was the supremely supernatural act, of all his -miraculous life, that he did not vanish.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_239" id="page_239">{239}</a></span></p> - -<p>Every attempt to amplify that story has diminished it. The task has been -attempted by many men of real genius and eloquence as well as by only -too many vulgar sentimentalists and self-conscious rhetoricians. The -tale has been retold with patronising pathos by elegant sceptics and -with fluent enthusiasm by boisterous best-sellers. It will not be retold -here. The grinding power of the plain words of the Gospel story is like -the power of mill-stones; and those who can read them simply enough will -feel as if rocks had been rolled upon them. Criticism is only words -about words; and of what use are words about such words as these? What -is the use of word-painting about the dark garden filled suddenly with -torchlight and furious faces? ‘Are you come out with swords and staves -as against a robber? All day I sat in your temple teaching, and you took -me not.’ Can anything be added to the massive and gathered restraint of -that irony; like a great wave lifted to the sky and refusing to fall? -‘Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me, but weep for yourselves and -for your children.’ As the High Priest asked what further need he had of -witnesses, we might well ask what further need we have of words. Peter -in a panic repudiated him: ‘and immediately the cock crew; and Jesus -looked upon Peter, and Peter went out and wept bitterly.’ Has any one -any further remarks to offer? Just before the murder he prayed for all -the murderous race of men, saying, ‘They know not what they do’; is -there anything to say to that, except that we know as little what we -say? Is there any need to repeat and spin out the story of how the -tragedy trailed up the Via Dolorosa and how they threw him in haphazard -with two thieves in one of the ordinary batches of execution; and how in -all that horror and howling wilderness of desertion one voice spoke in -homage, a startling voice from the very last place where it was looked -for, the gibbet of the criminal; and he said to that nameless ruffian,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_240" id="page_240">{240}</a></span> -‘This night shalt thou be with me in Paradise’? Is there anything to put -after that but a full-stop? Or is any one prepared to answer adequately -that farewell gesture to all flesh which created for his Mother a new -Son?</p> - -<p>It is more within my powers, and here more immediately to my purpose, to -point out that in that scene were symbolically gathered all the human -forces that have been vaguely sketched in this story. As kings and -philosophers and the popular element had been symbolically present at -his birth, so they were more practically concerned in his death; and -with that we come face to face with the essential fact to be realised. -All the great groups that stood about the Cross represent in one way or -another the great historical truth of the time; that the world could not -save itself. Man could do no more. Rome and Jerusalem and Athens and -everything else were going down like a sea turned into a slow cataract. -Externally indeed the ancient world was still at its strongest; it is -always at that moment that the inmost weakness begins. But in order to -understand that weakness we must repeat what has been said more than -once: that it was not the weakness of a thing originally weak. It was -emphatically the strength of the world that was turned to weakness, and -the wisdom of the world that was turned to folly.</p> - -<p>In this story of Good Friday it is the best things in the world that are -at their worst. That is what really shows us the world at its worst. It -was, for instance, the priests of a true monotheism and the soldiers of -an international civilisation. Rome, the legend, founded upon fallen -Troy and triumphant over fallen Carthage, had stood for a heroism which -was the nearest that any pagan ever came to chivalry. Rome had defended -the household gods and the human decencies against the ogres of Africa -and the hermaphrodite monstrosities of Greece. But in the lightning -flash of this incident, we see great Rome,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_241" id="page_241">{241}</a></span> the imperial republic, going -downward under her Lucretian doom. Scepticism has eaten away even the -confident sanity of the conquerors of the world. He who is enthroned to -say what is justice can only ask, ‘What is truth?’ So in that drama -which decided the whole fate of antiquity, one of the central figures is -fixed in what seems the reverse of his true rôle. Rome was almost -another name for responsibility. Yet he stands for ever as a sort of -rocking statue of the irresponsible. Man could do no more. Even the -practical had become the impracticable. Standing between the pillars of -his own judgment-seat, a Roman had washed his hands of the world.</p> - -<p>There too were the priests of that pure and original truth that was -behind all the mythologies like the sky behind the clouds. It was the -most important truth in the world; and even that could not save the -world. Perhaps there is something overpowering in pure personal theism; -like seeing the sun and moon and sky come together to form one staring -face. Perhaps the truth is too tremendous when not broken by some -intermediaries, divine or human; perhaps it is merely too pure and far -away. Anyhow it could not save the world; it could not even convert the -world. There were philosophers who held it in its highest and noblest -form; but they not only could not convert the world, but they never -tried. You could no more fight the jungle of popular mythology with a -private opinion than you could clear away a forest with a pocket-knife. -The Jewish priests had guarded it jealously in the good and the bad -sense. They had kept it as a gigantic secret. As savage heroes might -have kept the sun in a box, they kept the Everlasting in the tabernacle. -They were proud that they alone could look upon the blinding sun of a -single deity; and they did not know that they had themselves gone blind. -Since that day their representatives have been like blind men in broad -daylight, striking to right and left with their<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_242" id="page_242">{242}</a></span> staffs, and cursing the -darkness. But there has been that in their monumental monotheism that it -has at least remained like a monument, the last thing of its kind, and -in a sense motionless in the more restless world which it cannot -satisfy. For it is certain that for some reason it cannot satisfy. Since -that day it has never been quite enough to say that God is in his heaven -and all is right with the world; since the rumour that God had left his -heavens to set it right.</p> - -<p>And as it was with these powers that were good, or at least had once -been good, so it was with the element which was perhaps the best, or -which Christ himself seems certainly to have felt as the best. The poor -to whom he preached the good news, the common people who heard him -gladly, the populace that had made so many popular heroes and demigods -in the old pagan world, showed also the weaknesses that were dissolving -the world. They suffered the evils often seen in the mob of the city, -and especially the mob of the capital, during the decline of a society. -The same thing that makes the rural population live on tradition makes -the urban population live on rumour. Just as its myths at the best had -been irrational, so its likes and dislikes are easily changed by -baseless assertion that is arbitrary without being authoritative. Some -brigand or other was artificially turned into a picturesque and popular -figure and run as a kind of candidate against Christ. In all this we -recognise the urban population that we know, with its newspaper scares -and scoops. But there was present in this ancient population an evil -more peculiar to the ancient world. We have noted it already as the -neglect of the individual, even of the individual voting the -condemnation and still more of the individual condemned. It was the soul -of the hive; a heathen thing. The cry of this spirit also was heard in -that hour, ‘It is well that one man die for the people.’ Yet this spirit -in antiquity of devotion to the city and to the state had also been in -itself<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_243" id="page_243">{243}</a></span> and in its time a noble spirit. It had its poets and its -martyrs; men still to be honoured for ever. It was failing through its -weakness in not seeing the separate soul of a man, the shrine of all -mysticism; but it was only failing as everything else was failing. The -mob went along with the Sadducees and the Pharisees, the philosophers -and the moralists. It went along with the imperial magistrates and the -sacred priests, the scribes and the soldiers, that the one universal -human spirit might suffer a universal condemnation; that there might be -one deep, unanimous chorus of approval and harmony when Man was rejected -of men.</p> - -<p>There were solitudes beyond where none shall follow. There were secrets -in the inmost and invisible part of that drama that have no symbol in -speech; or in any severance of a man from men. Nor is it easy for any -words less stark and single-minded than those of the naked narrative -even to hint at the horror of exaltation that lifted itself above the -hill. Endless expositions have not come to the end of it, or even to the -beginning. And if there be any sound that can produce a silence, we may -surely be silent about the end and the extremity; when a cry was driven -out of that darkness in words dreadfully distinct and dreadfully -unintelligible, which man shall never understand in all the eternity -they have purchased for him; and for one annihilating instant an abyss -that is not for our thoughts had opened even in the unity of the -absolute; and God had been forsaken of God.</p> - -<p>They took the body down from the cross and one of the few rich men among -the first Christians obtained permission to bury it in a rock tomb in -his garden; the Romans setting a military guard lest there should be -some riot and attempt to recover the body. There was once more a natural -symbolism in these natural proceedings; it was well that the tomb should -be sealed with all the secrecy of ancient eastern sepulture and guarded -by the authority of the Caesars. For<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_244" id="page_244">{244}</a></span> in that second cavern the whole of -that great and glorious humanity which we call antiquity was gathered up -and covered over; and in that place it was buried. It was the end of a -very great thing called human history; the history that was merely -human. The mythologies and the philosophies were buried there, the gods -and the heroes and the sages. In the great Roman phrase, they had lived. -But as they could only live, so they could only die; and they were dead.</p> - -<p>On the third day the friends of Christ coming at daybreak to the place -found the grave empty and the stone rolled away. In varying ways they -realised the new wonder; but even they hardly realised that the world -had died in the night. What they were looking at was the first day of a -new creation, with a new heaven and a new earth; and in a semblance of -the gardener God walked again in the garden, in the cool not of the -evening but the dawn.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_245" id="page_245">{245}</a></span></p> - -<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IV-b" id="CHAPTER_IV-b"></a>CHAPTER IV<br /><br /> -THE WITNESS OF THE HERETICS</h3> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">Christ</span> founded the Church with two great figures of speech; in the final -words to the Apostles who received authority to found it. The first was -the phrase about founding it on Peter as on a rock; the second was the -symbol of the keys. About the meaning of the former there is naturally -no doubt in my own case; but it does not directly affect the argument -here save in two more secondary aspects. It is yet another example of a -thing that could only fully expand and explain itself afterwards, and -even long afterwards. And it is yet another example of something the -very reverse of simple and self-evident even in the language, in so far -as it described a man as a rock when he had much more the appearance of -a reed.</p> - -<p>But the other image of the keys has an exactitude that has hardly been -exactly noticed. The keys have been conspicuous enough in the art and -heraldry of Christendom; but not every one has noted the peculiar -aptness of the allegory. We have now reached the point in history where -something must be said of the first appearance and activities of the -Church in the Roman Empire; and for that brief description nothing could -be more perfect than that ancient metaphor. The Early Christian was very -precisely a person carrying about a key, or what he said was a key. The -whole Christian movement consisted in claiming to possess that key. It -was not merely a vague forward movement, which might be better -represented by a battering-ram. It was not something<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_246" id="page_246">{246}</a></span> that swept along -with it similar and dissimilar things, as does a modern social movement. -As we shall see in a moment, it rather definitely refused to do so. It -definitely asserted that there was a key and that it possessed that key -and that no other key was like it; in that sense it was as narrow as you -please. Only it happened to be the key that could unlock the prison of -the whole world; and let in the white daylight of escape.</p> - -<p>The creed was like a key in three respects; which can be most -conveniently summed up under this symbol. First, a key is above all -things a thing with a shape. It is a thing that depends entirely upon -keeping its shape. The Christian creed is above all things the -philosophy of shapes and the enemy of shapelessness. That is where it -differs from all that formless infinity, Manichean or Buddhist, which -makes a sort of pool of night in the dark heart of Asia; the ideal of -uncreating all the creatures. That is where it differs also from the -analogous vagueness of mere evolutionism; the idea of creatures -constantly losing their shape. A man told that his solitary latchkey had -been melted down with a million others into a Buddhistic unity would be -annoyed. But a man told that his key was gradually growing and sprouting -in his pocket, and branching into new wards or complications, would not -be more gratified.</p> - -<p>Second, the shape of a key is in itself a rather fantastic shape. A -savage who did not know it was a key would have the greatest difficulty -in guessing what it could possibly be. And it is fantastic because it is -in a sense arbitrary. A key is not a matter of abstractions; in that -sense a key is not a matter of argument. It either fits the lock or it -does not. It is useless for men to stand disputing over it, considered -by itself; or reconstructing it on pure principles of geometry or -decorative art. It is senseless for a man to say he would like a simpler -key; it would be far more sensible to do his best with a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_247" id="page_247">{247}</a></span> crowbar. And -thirdly, as the key is necessarily a thing with a pattern, so this was -one having in some ways a rather elaborate pattern. When people complain -of the religion being so early complicated with theology and things of -the kind, they forget that the world had not only got into a hole, but -had got into a whole maze of holes and corners. The problem itself was a -complicated problem; it did not in the ordinary sense merely involve -anything so simple as sin. It was also full of secrets, of unexplored -and unfathomable fallacies, of unconscious mental diseases, of dangers -in all directions. If the faith had faced the world only with the -platitudes about peace and simplicity some moralists would confine it -to, it would not have had the faintest effect on that luxurious and -labyrinthine lunatic asylum. What it did do we must now roughly -describe; it is enough to say here that there was undoubtedly much about -the key that seemed complex; indeed there was only one thing about it -that was simple. It opened the door.</p> - -<p>There are certain recognised and accepted statements in this matter -which may for brevity and convenience be described as lies. We have all -heard people say that Christianity arose in an age of barbarism. They -might just as well say that Christian Science arose in an age of -barbarism. They may think Christianity was a symptom of social decay, as -I think Christian Science a symptom of mental decay. They may think -Christianity a superstition that ultimately destroyed a civilisation, as -I think Christian Science a superstition capable (if taken seriously) of -destroying any number of civilisations. But to say that a Christian of -the fourth or fifth centuries was a barbarian living in a barbarous time -is exactly like saying that Mrs. Eddy was a Red Indian. And if I allowed -my constitutional impatience with Mrs. Eddy to impel me to call her a -Red Indian, I should incidentally be telling a lie. We may like or -dislike the imperial civilisation of Rome in the fourth century;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_248" id="page_248">{248}</a></span> we may -like or dislike the industrial civilisation of America in the nineteenth -century; but that they both were what we commonly mean by a civilisation -no person of common sense could deny if he wanted to. This is a very -obvious fact, but it is also a very fundamental one; and we must make it -the foundation of any further description of constructive Christianity -in the past. For good or evil, it was pre-eminently the product of a -civilised age, perhaps of an over-civilised age. This is the first fact -apart from all praise or blame; indeed I am so unfortunate as not to -feel that I praise a thing when I compare it to Christian Science. But -it is at least desirable to know something of the savour of a society in -which we are condemning or praising anything; and the science that -connects Mrs. Eddy with tomahawks or the Mater Dolorosa with totems may -for our general convenience be eliminated. The dominant fact, not merely -about the Christian religion, but about the whole pagan civilisation, -was that which has been more than once repeated in these pages. The -Mediterranean was a lake in the real sense of a pool; in which a number -of different cults or cultures were, as the phrase goes, pooled. Those -cities facing each other round the circle of the lake became more and -more one cosmopolitan culture. On its legal and military side it was the -Roman Empire; but it was very many-sided. It might be called -superstitious in the sense that it contained a great number of varied -superstitions; but by no possibility can any part of it be called -barbarous.</p> - -<p>In this level of cosmopolitan culture arose the Christian religion and -the Catholic Church; and everything in the story suggests that it was -felt to be something new and strange. Those who have tried to suggest -that it evolved out of something much milder or more ordinary have found -that in this case their evolutionary method is very difficult to apply. -They may suggest that Essenes or Ebionites or such<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_249" id="page_249">{249}</a></span> things were the -seed; but the seed is invisible; the tree appears very rapidly -full-grown; and the tree is something totally different. It is certainly -a Christmas tree in the sense that it keeps the kindliness and moral -beauty of the story of Bethlehem; but it was as ritualistic as the -seven-branched candlestick, and the candles it carried were considerably -more than were probably permitted by the first prayer-book of Edward the -Sixth. It might well be asked, indeed, why any one accepting the -Bethlehem tradition should object to golden or gilded ornament since the -Magi themselves brought gold; why he should dislike incense in the -church since incense was brought even to the stable. But these are -controversies that do not concern me here. I am concerned only with the -historical fact, more and more admitted by historians, that very early -in its history this thing became visible to the civilisation of -antiquity; and that already the Church appeared as a Church; with -everything that is implied in a Church and much that is disliked in a -Church. We will discuss in a moment how far it was like other -ritualistic or magical or ascetical mysteries in its own time. It was -certainly not in the least like merely ethical and idealistic movements -in our time. It had a doctrine; it had a discipline; it had sacraments; -it had degrees of initiation; it admitted people and expelled people; it -affirmed one dogma with authority and repudiated another with anathemas. -If all these things be the marks of Antichrist, the reign of Antichrist -followed very rapidly upon Christ.</p> - -<p>Those who maintain that Christianity was not a Church but a moral -movement of idealists have been forced to push the period of its -perversion or disappearance further and further back. A bishop of Rome -writes claiming authority in the very lifetime of St. John the -Evangelist; and it is described as the first papal aggression. A friend -of the Apostles writes of them as men he knew, and says they taught him<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_250" id="page_250">{250}</a></span> -the doctrine of the Sacrament; and Mr. Wells can only murmur that the -reaction towards barbaric blood-rites may have happened rather earlier -than might be expected. The date of the Fourth Gospel, which at one time -was steadily growing later and later, is now steadily growing earlier -and earlier; until critics are staggered at the dawning and dreadful -possibility that it might be something like what it professes to be. The -last limit of an early date for the extinction of true Christianity has -probably been found by the latest German professor whose authority is -invoked by Dean Inge. This learned scholar says that Pentecost was the -occasion for the first founding of an ecclesiastical, dogmatic and -despotic Church utterly alien to the simple ideals of Jesus of Nazareth. -This may be called, in a popular as well as a learned sense, the limit. -What do professors of this kind imagine that men are made of? Suppose it -were a matter of any merely human movement, let us say that of the -Conscientious Objectors. Some say the early Christians were Pacifists; I -do not believe it for a moment; but I am quite ready to accept the -parallel for the sake of the argument. Tolstoy or some great preacher of -peace among peasants has been shot as a mutineer for defying -conscription; and a month or so after his few followers meet together in -an upper room in remembrance of him. They never had any reason for -coming together except that common memory; they are men of many kinds -with nothing to bind them, except that the greatest event in all their -lives was this tragedy of the teacher of universal peace. They are -always repeating his words, revolving his problems, trying to imitate -his character. The Pacifists meet at their Pentecost and are possessed -of a sudden ecstasy of enthusiasm and wild rush of the whirlwind of -inspiration, in the course of which they proceed to establish universal -Conscription, to increase the Navy Estimates, to insist on everybody -going about armed to the teeth<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_251" id="page_251">{251}</a></span> and on all the frontiers bristling with -artillery; the proceedings concluding with the singing of ‘Boys of the -Bulldog Breed’ and ‘Don’t let them scrap the British Navy.’ That is -something like a fair parallel to the theory of these critics; that the -transition from their idea of Jesus to their idea of Catholicism could -have been made in the little upper room at Pentecost. Surely anybody’s -common sense would tell him that enthusiasts, who only met through their -common enthusiasm for a leader whom they loved, would not instantly rush -away to establish everything that he hated. No, if the ‘ecclesiastical -and dogmatic system’ is as old as Pentecost it is as old as Christmas. -If we trace it back to such very early Christians we must trace it back -to Christ.</p> - -<p>We may begin then with these two negations. It is nonsense to say that -the Christian faith appeared in a simple age; in the sense of an -unlettered and gullible age. It is equally nonsense to say that the -Christian faith was a simple thing; in the sense of a vague or childish -or merely instinctive thing. Perhaps the only point in which we could -possibly say that the Church fitted into the pagan world is the fact -that they were both not only highly civilised but rather complicated. -They were both emphatically many-sided; but antiquity was then a -many-sided hole, like a hexagonal hole waiting for an equally hexagonal -stopper. In that sense only the Church was many-sided enough to fit the -world. The six sides of the Mediterranean world faced each other across -the sea and waited for something that should look all ways at once. The -Church had to be both Roman and Greek and Jewish and African and -Asiatic. In the very words of the Apostle of the Gentiles, it was indeed -all things to all men. Christianity then was not merely crude and -simple, and was the very reverse of the growth of a barbaric time. But -when we come to the contrary charge, we come to a much more plausible -charge. It is very much more tenable<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_252" id="page_252">{252}</a></span> that the Faith was but the final -phase of the decay of civilisation, in the sense of the excess of -civilisation; that this superstition was a sign that Rome was dying, and -dying of being much too civilised. That is an argument much better worth -considering; and we will proceed to consider it.</p> - -<p>At the beginning of this book I ventured on a general summary of it, in -a parallel between the rise of humanity out of nature and the rise of -Christianity out of history. I pointed out that in both cases what had -gone before might imply something coming after; but did not in the least -imply what did come after. If a detached mind had seen certain apes it -might have deduced more anthropoids; it would not have deduced man or -anything within a thousand miles of what man has done. In short, it -might have seen Pithacanthropus or the Missing Link looming in the -future, if possible almost as dimly and doubtfully as we see him looming -in the past. But if it foresaw him appearing it would also foresee him -disappearing, and leaving a few faint traces just as he has left a few -faint traces; if they are traces. To foresee that Missing Link would not -be to foresee Man, or anything like Man. Now this earlier explanation -must be kept in mind; because it is an exact parallel to the true view -of the Church; and the suggestion of it having evolved naturally out of -the Empire in decay.</p> - -<p>The truth is that in one sense a man might very well have predicted that -the imperial decadence would produce something like Christianity. That -is, something a little like and gigantically different. A man might very -well have said, for instance, ‘Pleasure has been pursued so -extravagantly that there will be a reaction into pessimism. Perhaps it -will take the form of asceticism; men will mutilate themselves instead -of merely hanging themselves.’ Or a man might very reasonably have said, -‘If we weary of our Greek and Latin gods we shall be hankering after -some eastern mystery or other; there will be a fashion<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_253" id="page_253">{253}</a></span> in Persians or -Hindoos.’ Or a man of the world might well have been shrewd enough to -say, ‘Powerful people are picking up these fads; some day the court will -adopt one of them and it may become official.’ Or yet another and -gloomier prophet might be pardoned for saying, ‘The world is going -down-hill; dark and barbarous superstitions will return, it does not -matter much which. They will all be formless and fugitive like dreams of -the night.’</p> - -<p>Now it is the intense interest of the case that all these prophecies -were really fulfilled; but it was not the Church that fulfilled them. It -was the Church that escaped from them, confounded them, and rose above -them in triumph. In so far as it was probable that the mere nature of -hedonism would produce a mere reaction of asceticism, it did produce a -mere reaction of asceticism. It was the movement called Manichean, and -the Church was its mortal enemy. In so far as it would have naturally -appeared at that point of history, it did appear; it did also disappear, -which was equally natural. The mere pessimist reaction did come with the -Manichees and did go with the Manichees. But the Church did not come -with them or go with them; and she had much more to do with their going -than with their coming. Or again, in so far as it was probable that even -the growth of scepticism would bring in a fashion of eastern religion, -it did bring it in; Mithras came from far beyond Palestine out of the -heart of Persia, bringing strange mysteries of the blood of bulls. -Certainly there was everything to show that some such fashion would have -come in any case. But certainly there is nothing in the world to show -that it would not have passed away in any case. Certainly an Oriental -fad was something eminently fitted to the fourth or fifth century; but -that hardly explains it having remained to the twentieth century, and -still going strong. In short, in so far as things of the kind might have -been expected then, things like Mithraism were<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_254" id="page_254">{254}</a></span> experienced then; but it -scarcely explains our more recent experiences. And if we were still -Mithraists merely because Mithraic head-dresses and other Persian -apparatuses might be expected to be all the rage in the days of -Domitian, it would almost seem by this time that we must be a little -dowdy.</p> - -<p>It is the same, as will be suggested in a moment, with the idea of -official favouritism. In so far as such favouritism shown towards a fad -was something that might have been looked for during the decline and -fall of the Roman Empire, it was something that did exist in that Empire -and did decline and fall with it. It throws no sort of light on the -thing that resolutely refused to decline and fall; that grew steadily -while the other was declining and falling; and which even at this moment -is going forward with fearless energy, when another aeon has completed -its cycle and another civilisation seems almost ready to fall or to -decline.</p> - -<p>Now the curious fact is this; that the very heresies which the Early -Church is blamed for crushing testify to the unfairness for which she is -blamed. In so far as something deserved the blame, it was precisely the -things that she is blamed for blaming. In so far as something was merely -a superstition, she herself condemned that superstition. In so far as -something was a mere reaction into barbarism, she herself resisted it -because it was a reaction into barbarism. In so far as something was a -fad of the fading empire, that died and deserved to die, it was the -Church alone that killed it. The Church is reproached for being exactly -what the heresy was repressed for being. The explanations of the -evolutionary historians and higher critics do really explain why -Arianism and Gnosticism and Nestorianism were born—and also why they -died. They do not explain why the Church was born or why she has refused -to die. Above all, they do not explain why she should have made war on -the very evils she is supposed to share.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_255" id="page_255">{255}</a></span></p> - -<p>Let us take a few practical examples of the principle; the principle -that if there was anything that was really a superstition of the dying -empire, it did really die with the dying empire; and certainly was not -the same as the very thing that destroyed it. For this purpose we will -take in order two or three of the most ordinary explanations of -Christian origins among the modern critics of Christianity. Nothing is -more common, for instance, than to find such a modern critic writing -something like this: ‘Christianity was above all a movement of ascetics, -a rush into the desert, a refuge in the cloister, a renunciation of all -life and happiness; and this was a part of a gloomy and inhuman reaction -against nature itself, a hatred of the body, a horror of the material -universe, a sort of universal suicide of the senses and even of the -self. It came from an eastern fanaticism like that of the fakirs and was -ultimately founded on an eastern pessimism, which seems to feel -existence itself as an evil.’</p> - -<p>Now the most extraordinary thing about this is that it is all quite -true; it is true in every detail except that it happens to be attributed -entirely to the wrong person. It is not true of the Church; but it is -true of the heretics condemned by the Church. It is as if one were to -write a most detailed analysis of the mistakes and misgovernment of the -ministers of George the Third, merely with the small inaccuracy that the -whole story was told about George Washington; or as if somebody made a -list of the crimes of the Bolshevists with no variation except that they -were all attributed to the Czar. The early Church was indeed very -ascetic, in connection with a totally different philosophy; but the -philosophy of a war on life and nature as such really did exist in the -world, if the critics only knew where to look for it.</p> - -<p>What really happened was this. When the Faith first emerged into the -world, the very first thing that<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_256" id="page_256">{256}</a></span> happened to it was that it was caught -in a sort of swarm of mystical and metaphysical sects, mostly out of the -East; like one lonely golden bee caught in a swarm of wasps. To the -ordinary onlooker, there did not seem to be much difference, or anything -beyond a general buzz; indeed in a sense there was not much difference, -so far as stinging and being stung were concerned. The difference was -that only one golden dot in all that whirring gold-dust had the power of -going forth to make hives for all humanity; to give the world honey and -wax or (as was so finely said in a context too easily forgotten) ‘the -two noblest things, which are sweetness and light.’ The wasps all died -that winter; and half the difficulty is that hardly any one knows -anything about them and most people do not know that they ever existed; -so that the whole story of that first phase of our religion is lost. Or, -to vary the metaphor, when this movement or some other movement pierced -the dyke between the east and west and brought more mystical ideas into -Europe, it brought with it a whole flood of other mystical ideas besides -its own, most of them ascetical and nearly all of them pessimistic. They -very nearly flooded and overwhelmed the purely Christian element. They -came mostly from that region that was a sort of dim borderland between -the eastern philosophies and the eastern mythologies, and which shared -with the wilder philosophers that curious craze for making fantastic -patterns of the cosmos in the shape of maps and genealogical trees. -Those that are supposed to derive from the mysterious Manes are called -Manichean; kindred cults are more generally known as Gnostic; they are -mostly of a labyrinthine complexity, but the point to insist on is the -pessimism; the fact that nearly all in one form or another regarded the -creation of the world as the work of an evil spirit. Some of them had -that Asiatic atmosphere that surrounds Buddhism; the suggestion that -life is a corruption of the purity of being.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_257" id="page_257">{257}</a></span> Some of them suggested a -purely spiritual order which had been betrayed by the coarse and clumsy -trick of making such toys as the sun and moon and stars. Anyhow all this -dark tide out of the metaphysical sea in the midst of Asia poured -through the dykes simultaneously with the creed of Christ; but it is the -whole point of the story that the two were not the same; that they -flowed like oil and water. That creed remained in the shape of a -miracle; a river still flowing through the sea. And the proof of the -miracle was practical once more; it was merely that while all that sea -was salt and bitter with the savour of death, of this one stream in the -midst of it a man could drink.</p> - -<p>Now that purity was preserved by dogmatic definitions and exclusions. It -could not possibly have been preserved by anything else. If the Church -had not renounced the Manicheans it might have become merely Manichean. -If it had not renounced the Gnostics it might have become Gnostic. But -by the very fact that it did renounce them it proved that it was not -either Gnostic or Manichean. At any rate it proved that something was -not either Gnostic or Manichean; and what could it be that condemned -them, if it was not the original good news of the runners from Bethlehem -and the trumpet of the Resurrection? The early Church was ascetic, but -she proved that she was not pessimistic, simply by condemning the -pessimists. The creed declared that man was sinful, but it did not -declare that life was evil, and it proved it by damning those who did. -The condemnation of the early heretics is itself condemned as something -crabbed and narrow; but it was in truth the very proof that the Church -meant to be brotherly and broad. It proved that the primitive Catholics -were specially eager to explain that they did <i>not</i> think man utterly -vile; that they did <i>not</i> think life incurably miserable; that they did -<i>not</i> think marriage a sin or procreation a tragedy. They<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_258" id="page_258">{258}</a></span> were ascetic -because asceticism was the only possible purge of the sins of the world; -but in the very thunder of their anathemas they affirmed for ever that -their asceticism was not to be anti-human or anti-natural; that they did -wish to purge the world and not destroy it. And nothing else except -those anathemas could possibly have made it clear, amid a confusion -which still confuses them with their mortal enemies. Nothing else but -dogma could have resisted the riot of imaginative invention with which -the pessimists were waging their war against nature; with their Aeons -and their Demiurge, their strange Logos and their sinister Sophia. If -the Church had not insisted on theology, it would have melted into a mad -mythology of the mystics, yet further removed from reason or even from -rationalism; and, above all, yet further removed from life and from the -love of life. Remember that it would have been an inverted mythology, -one contradicting everything natural in paganism; a mythology in which -Pluto would be above Jupiter and Hades hang higher than Olympus; in -which Brahma and all that has the breath of life would be subject to -Siva, shining with the eye of death.</p> - -<p>That the early Church was itself full of an ecstatic enthusiasm for -renunciation and virginity makes this distinction much more striking and -not less so. It makes all the more important the place where the dogma -drew the line. A man might crawl about on all fours like a beast because -he was an ascetic. He might stand night and day on the top of a pillar -and be adored for being an ascetic. But he could not say that the world -was a mistake or the marriage state a sin without being a heretic. What -was it that thus deliberately disengaged itself from eastern asceticism -by sharp definition and fierce refusal, if it was not something with an -individuality of its own; and one that was quite different? If the -Catholics are to be confused with the Gnostics, we can only say it was -not their fault if they are. And it is rather<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_259" id="page_259">{259}</a></span> hard that the Catholics -should be blamed by the same critics for persecuting the heretics and -also for sympathising with the heresy.</p> - -<p>The Church was not a Manichean movement, if only because it was not a -movement at all. It was not even merely an ascetical movement, because -it was not a movement at all. It would be nearer the truth to call it -the tamer of asceticism than the mere leader or loosener of it. It was a -thing having its own theory of asceticism, its own type of asceticism, -but most conspicuous at the moment as the moderator of other theories -and types. This is the only sense that can be made, for instance, of the -story of St. Augustine. As long as he was a mere man of the world, a -mere man drifting with his time, he actually was a Manichean. It really -was quite modern and fashionable to be a Manichean. But when he became a -Catholic, the people he instantly turned on and rent in pieces were the -Manicheans. The Catholic way of putting it is that he left off being a -pessimist to become an ascetic. But as the pessimists interpreted -asceticism, it might be said that he left off being an ascetic to become -a saint. The war upon life, the denial of nature, were exactly the -things he had already found in the heathen world outside the Church, and -had to renounce when he entered the Church. The very fact that St. -Augustine remains a somewhat sterner or sadder figure than St. Francis -or St. Teresa only accentuates the dilemma. Face to face with the -gravest or even grimmest of Catholics, we can still ask, ‘Why did -Catholicism make war on Manichees, if Catholicism was Manichean?’</p> - -<p>Take another rationalistic explanation of the rise of Christendom. It is -common enough to find another critic saying, ‘Christianity did not -really rise at all; that is, it did not merely rise from below; it was -imposed from above. It is an example of the power of the executive, -especially in despotic states. The Empire was really an Empire; that is, -it was really<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_260" id="page_260">{260}</a></span> ruled by the Emperor. One of the Emperors happened to -become a Christian. He might just as well have become a Mithraist or a -Jew or a Fire-Worshipper; it was common in the decline of the Empire for -eminent and educated people to adopt these eccentric eastern cults. But -when he adopted it, it became the official religion of the Roman Empire; -and when it became the official religion of the Roman Empire, it became -as strong, as universal, and as invincible as the Roman Empire. It has -only remained in the world as a relic of that Empire; or, as many have -put it, it is but the ghost of Caesar still hovering over Rome.’ This -also is a very ordinary line taken in the criticism of orthodoxy, to say -that it was only officialism that ever made it orthodoxy. And here again -we can call on the heretics to refute it.</p> - -<p>The whole great history of the Arian heresy might have been invented to -explode this idea. It is a very interesting history often repeated in -this connection; and the upshot of it is in that in so far as there ever -was a merely official religion, it actually died because it was a merely -official religion; and what destroyed it was the real religion. Arius -advanced a version of Christianity which moved, more or less vaguely, in -the direction of what we should call Unitarianism; though it was not the -same, for it gave to Christ a curious intermediary position between the -divine and human. The point is that it seemed to many more reasonable -and less fanatical; and among these were many of the educated class in a -sort of reaction against the first romance of conversion. Arians were a -sort of moderates and a sort of modernists. And it was felt that after -the first squabbles this was the final form of rationalised religion -into which civilisation might well settle down. It was accepted by Divus -Caesar himself and became the official orthodoxy; the generals and -military princes drawn from the new barbarian powers of the north, full -of the future, supported it strongly. But the sequel is still<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_261" id="page_261">{261}</a></span> more -important. Exactly as a modern man might pass through Unitarianism to -complete agnosticism, so the greatest of the Arian emperors ultimately -shed the last and thinnest pretence of Christianity; he abandoned even -Arius and returned to Apollo. He was a Caesar of the Caesars; a soldier, -a scholar, a man of large ambitions and ideals; another of the -philosopher kings. It seemed to him as if at his signal the sun rose -again. The oracles began to speak like birds beginning to sing at dawn; -paganism was itself again; the gods returned. It seemed the end of that -strange interlude of an alien superstition. And indeed it was the end of -it, so far as there was a mere interlude of mere superstition. It was -the end of it, in so far as it was the fad of an emperor or the fashion -of a generation. If there really was something that began with -Constantine, then it ended with Julian.</p> - -<p>But there was something that did not end. There had arisen in that hour -of history, defiant above the democratic tumult of the Councils of the -Church, Athanasius against the world. We may pause upon the point at -issue; because it is relevant to the whole of this religious history, -and the modern world seems to miss the whole point of it. We might put -it this way. If there is one question which the enlightened and liberal -have the habit of deriding and holding up as a dreadful example of -barren dogma and senseless sectarian strife, it is this Athanasian -question of the Co-Eternity of the Divine Son. On the other hand, if -there is one thing that the same liberals always offer us as a piece of -pure and simple Christianity, untroubled by doctrinal disputes, it is -the single sentence, ‘God is Love.’ Yet the two statements are almost -identical; at least one is very nearly nonsense without the other. The -barren dogma is only the logical way of stating the beautiful sentiment. -For if there be a being without beginning, existing before all things, -was He loving when there was nothing to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_262" id="page_262">{262}</a></span> be loved? If through that -unthinkable eternity He is lonely, what is the meaning of saying He is -love? The only justification of such a mystery is the mystical -conception that in His own nature there was something analogous to -self-expression; something of what begets and beholds what it has -begotten. Without some such idea, it is really illogical to complicate -the ultimate essence of deity with an idea like love. If the moderns -really want a simple religion of love, they must look for it in the -Athanasian Creed. The truth is that the trumpet of true Christianity, -the challenge of the charities and simplicities of Bethlehem or -Christmas Day, never rang out more arrestingly and unmistakably than in -the defiance of Athanasius to the cold compromise of the Arians. It was -emphatically he who really was fighting for a God of Love against a God -of colourless and remote cosmic control; the God of the stoics and the -agnostics. It was emphatically he who was fighting for the Holy Child -against the grey deity of the Pharisees and the Sadducees. He was -fighting for that very balance of beautiful interdependence and -intimacy, in the very Trinity of the Divine Nature, that draws our -hearts to the Trinity of the Holy Family. His dogma, if the phrase be -not misunderstood, turns even God into a Holy Family.</p> - -<p>That this purely Christian dogma actually for a second time rebelled -against the Empire, and actually for a second time refounded the Church -in spite of the Empire, is itself a proof that there was something -positive and personal working in the world, other than whatever official -faith the Empire chose to adopt. This power utterly destroyed the -official faith that the Empire did adopt. It went on its own way as it -is going on its own way still. There are any number of other examples in -which is repeated precisely the same process we have reviewed in the -case of the Manichean and the Arian. A few centuries after<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_263" id="page_263">{263}</a></span>wards, for -instance, the Church had to maintain the same Trinity, which is simply -the logical side of love, against another appearance of the isolated and -simplified deity in the religion of Islam. Yet there are some who cannot -see what the Crusaders were fighting for; and some even who talk as if -Christianity had never been anything but a form of what they call -Hebraism coming in with the decay of Hellenism. Those people must -certainly be very much puzzled by the war between the Crescent and the -Cross. If Christianity had never been anything but a simpler morality -sweeping away polytheism, there is no reason why Christendom should not -have been swept into Islam. The truth is that Islam itself was a -barbaric reaction against that very humane complexity that is really a -Christian character; that idea of balance in the deity, as of balance in -the family, that makes that creed a sort of sanity, and that sanity the -soul of civilisation. And that is why the Church is from the first a -thing holding its own position and point of view, quite apart from the -accidents and anarchies of its age. That is why it deals blows -impartially right and left, at the pessimism of the Manichean or the -optimism of the Pelagian. It was not a Manichean movement because it was -not a movement at all. It was not an official fashion because it was not -a fashion at all. It was something that could coincide with movements -and fashions, could control them and could survive them.</p> - -<p>So might rise from their graves the great heresiarchs to confound their -comrades of to-day. There is nothing that the critics now affirm that we -cannot call on these great witnesses to deny. The modern critic will say -lightly enough that Christianity was but a reaction into asceticism and -anti-natural spirituality, a dance of fakirs furious against life and -love. But Manes the great mystic will answer them from his secret throne -and cry, ‘These Christians have no right to be called spiritual; these -Christians have no<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_264" id="page_264">{264}</a></span> title to be called ascetics; they who compromised -with the curse of life and all the filth of the family. Through them the -earth is still foul with fruit and harvest and polluted with population. -Theirs was no movement against nature, or my children would have carried -it to triumph; but these fools renewed the world when I would have ended -it with a gesture.’ And another critic will write that the Church was -but the shadow of the Empire, the fad of a chance Emperor, and that it -remains in Europe only as the ghost of the power of Rome. And Arius the -deacon will answer out of the darkness of oblivion: ‘No, indeed, or the -world would have followed my more reasonable religion. For mine went -down before demagogues and men defying Caesar; and around my champion -was the purple cloak and mine was the glory of the eagles. It was not -for lack of these things that I failed.’ And yet a third modern will -maintain that the creed spread only as a sort of panic of hell-fire; men -everywhere attempting impossible things in fleeing from incredible -vengeance; a nightmare of imaginary remorse; and such an explanation -will satisfy many who see something dreadful in the doctrine of -orthodoxy. And then there will go up against it the terrible voice of -Tertullian, saying, ‘And why then was I cast out; and why did soft -hearts and heads decide against me when I proclaimed the perdition of -all sinners; and what was this power that thwarted me when I threatened -all backsliders with hell? For none ever went up that hard road so far -as I; and mine was the <i>Credo Quia Impossibile</i>.’ Then there is the -fourth suggestion that there was something of the Semitic secret society -in the whole matter; that it was a new invasion of the nomad spirit -shaking a kindlier and more comfortable paganism, its cities and its -household gods; whereby the jealous monotheistic races could after all -establish their jealous God. And Mahomet shall answer out of the -whirlwind, the red whirlwind of the desert,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_265" id="page_265">{265}</a></span> ‘Who ever served the -jealousy of God as I did or left him more lonely in the sky? Who ever -paid more honour to Moses and Abraham or won more victories over idols -and the images of paganism? And what was this thing that thrust me back -with the energy of a thing alive; whose fanaticism could drive me from -Sicily and tear up my deep roots out of the rock of Spain? What faith -was theirs who thronged in thousands of every class and country crying -out that my ruin was the will of God; and what hurled great Godfrey as -from a catapult over the wall of Jerusalem; and what brought great -Sobieski like a thunderbolt to the gates of Vienna? I think there was -more than you fancy in the religion that has so matched itself with -mine.’</p> - -<p>Those who would suggest that the faith was a fanaticism are doomed to an -eternal perplexity. In their account it is bound to appear as fanatical -for nothing, and fanatical against everything. It is ascetical and at -war with ascetics, Roman and in revolt against Rome, monotheistic and -fighting furiously against monotheism; harsh in its condemnation of -harshness; a riddle not to be explained even as unreason. And what sort -of unreason is it that seems reasonable to millions of educated -Europeans through all the revolutions of some sixteen hundred years? -People are not amused with a puzzle or a paradox or a mere muddle in the -mind for all that time. I know of no explanation except that such a -thing is not unreason but reason; that if it is fanatical it is -fanatical for reason and fanatical against all the unreasonable things. -That is the only explanation I can find of a thing from the first so -detached and so confident, condemning things that looked so like itself, -refusing help from powers that seemed so essential to its existence, -sharing on its human side all the passions of the age, yet always at the -supreme moment suddenly rising superior to them, never<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_266" id="page_266">{266}</a></span> saying exactly -what it was expected to say and never needing to unsay what it had said; -I can find no explanation except that, like Pallas from the brain of -Jove, it had indeed come forth out of the mind of God, mature and mighty -and armed for judgment and for war.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_267" id="page_267">{267}</a></span></p> - -<h3><a name="CHAPTER_V-b" id="CHAPTER_V-b"></a>CHAPTER V<br /><br /> -THE ESCAPE FROM PAGANISM</h3> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">The</span> modern missionary, with his palm-leaf hat and his umbrella, has -become rather a figure of fun. He is chaffed among men of the world for -the ease with which he can be eaten by cannibals and the narrow bigotry -which makes him regard the cannibal culture as lower than his own. -Perhaps the best part of the joke is that the men of the world do not -see that the joke is against themselves. It is rather ridiculous to ask -a man just about to be boiled in a pot and eaten, at a purely religious -feast, why he does not regard all religions as equally friendly and -fraternal. But there is a more subtle criticism uttered against the more -old-fashioned missionary; to the effect that he generalises too broadly -about the heathen and pays too little attention to the difference -between Mahomet and Mumbo-Jumbo. There was probably truth in this -complaint, especially in the past; but it is my main contention here -that the exaggeration is all the other way at present. It is the -temptation of the professors to treat mythologies too much as -theologies; as things thoroughly thought out and seriously held. It is -the temptation of the intellectuals to take much too seriously the fine -shades of various schools in the rather irresponsible metaphysics of -Asia. Above all, it is their temptation to miss the real truth implied -in the idea of Aquinas contra Gentiles or Athanasius contra mundum.</p> - -<p>If the missionary says, in fact, that he is exceptional in being a -Christian, and that the rest of the races and religions can be -collectively classified as heathen,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_268" id="page_268">{268}</a></span> he is perfectly right. He may say -it in quite the wrong spirit, in which case he is spiritually wrong. But -in the cold light of philosophy and history, he is intellectually right. -He may not be right-minded, but he is right. He may not even have a -right to be right, but he is right. The outer world to which he brings -his creed really is something subject to certain generalisations -covering all its varieties, and is not merely a variety of similar -creeds. Perhaps it is in any case too much of a temptation to pride or -hypocrisy to call it heathenry. Perhaps it would be better simply to -call it humanity. But there are certain broad characteristics of what we -call humanity while it remains in what we call heathenry. They are not -necessarily bad characteristics; some of them are worthy of the respect -of Christendom; some of them have been absorbed and transfigured in the -substance of Christendom. But they existed before Christendom and they -still exist outside Christendom, as certainly as the sea existed before -a boat and all round a boat; and they have as strong and as universal -and as unmistakable a savour as the sea.</p> - -<p>For instance, all real scholars who have studied the Greek and Roman -culture say one thing about it. They agree that in the ancient world -religion was one thing and philosophy quite another. There was very -little effort to rationalise and at the same time to realise a real -belief in the gods. There was very little pretence of any such real -belief among the philosophers. But neither had the passion or perhaps -the power to persecute the other, save in particular and peculiar cases; -and neither the philosopher in his school nor the priest in his temple -seems ever to have seriously contemplated his own concept as covering -the world. A priest sacrificing to Artemis in Calydon did not seem to -think that people would some day sacrifice to her instead of to Isis -beyond the sea; a sage following the vegetarian rule of the -Neo-Pythagoreans did not seem to think it would universally<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_269" id="page_269">{269}</a></span> prevail and -exclude the methods of Epictetus or Epicurus. We may call this -liberality if we like; I am not dealing with an argument but describing -an atmosphere. All this, I say, is admitted by all scholars; but what -neither the learned nor the unlearned have fully realised, perhaps, is -that this description is really an exact description of all -non-Christian civilisation to-day; and especially of the great -civilisations of the East. Eastern paganism really is much more all of a -piece, just as ancient paganism was much more all of a piece, than the -modern critics admit. It is a many-coloured Persian carpet as the others -was a varied and tessellated Roman pavement; but the one real crack -right across that pavement came from the earthquake of the Crucifixion.</p> - -<p>The modern European seeking his religion in Asia is reading his religion -into Asia. Religion there is something different; it is both more and -less. He is like a man mapping out the sea as land; marking waves as -mountains; not understanding the nature of its peculiar permanence. It -is perfectly true that Asia has its own dignity and poetry and high -civilisation. But it is not in the least true that Asia has its own -definite dominions of moral government, where all loyalty is conceived -in terms of morality; as when we say that Ireland is Catholic or that -New England was Puritan. The map is not marked out in religions, in our -sense of churches. The state of mind is far more subtle, more relative, -more secretive, more varied and changing, like the colours of the snake. -The Moslem is the nearest approach to a militant Christian; and that is -precisely because he is a much nearer approach to an envoy from western -civilisation. The Moslem in the heart of Asia almost stands for the soul -of Europe. And as he stands between them and Europe in the matter of -space, so he stands between them and Christianity in the matter of time. -In that sense the Moslems in Asia are merely like the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_270" id="page_270">{270}</a></span> Nestorians in -Asia. Islam, historically speaking, is the greatest of the eastern -heresies. It owed something to the quite isolated and unique -individuality of Israel; but it owed more to Byzantium and the -theological enthusiasm of Christendom. It owed something even to the -Crusades. It owed nothing whatever to Asia. It owed nothing to the -atmosphere of the ancient and traditional world of Asia, with its -immemorial etiquette and its bottomless or bewildering philosophies. All -that ancient and actual Asia felt the entrance of Islam as something -foreign and western and warlike, piercing it like a spear.</p> - -<p>Even where we might trace in dotted lines the domains of Asiatic -religions, we should probably be reading into them something dogmatic -and ethical belonging to our own religion. It is as if a European -ignorant of the American atmosphere were to suppose that each ‘state’ -was a separate sovereign state as patriotic as France or Poland; or that -when a Yankee referred fondly to his ‘home town’ he meant he had no -other nation, like a citizen of ancient Athens or Rome. As he would be -reading a particular sort of loyalty into America, so we are reading a -particular sort of loyalty into Asia. There are loyalties of other -kinds; but not what men on the West mean by being a believer, by trying -to be a Christian, by being a good Protestant or a practising Catholic. -In the intellectual world it means something far more vague and varied -by doubts and speculations. In the moral world it means something far -more loose and drifting. A professor of Persian at one of our great -universities, so passionate a partisan of the East as practically to -profess a contempt for the West, said to a friend of mine: ‘You will -never understand oriental religions, because you always conceive -religion as connected with ethics. This kind has really nothing to do -with ethics.’ We have most of us known some Masters of the Higher -Wisdom, some Pilgrims upon the Path to Power,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_271" id="page_271">{271}</a></span> some eastern esoteric -saints and seers, who had really nothing to do with ethics. Something -different, something detached and irresponsible, tinges the moral -atmosphere of Asia and touches even that of Islam. It was very -realistically caught in the atmosphere of <i>Hassan</i>; and a very horrible -atmosphere too. It is even more vivid in such glimpses as we get of the -genuine and ancient cults of Asia. Deeper than the depths of -metaphysics, far down in the abysses of mystical meditations, under all -that solemn universe of spiritual things, is a secret, an intangible and -a terrible levity. It does not really very much matter what one does. -Either because they do not believe in a devil, or because they do -believe in a destiny, or because experience here is everything and -eternal life something totally different, but for some reason they are -totally different. I have read somewhere that there were three great -friends famous in medieval Persia for their unity of mind. One became -the responsible and respected Vizier of the Great King; the second was -the poet Omar, pessimist and epicurean, drinking wine in mockery of -Mahomet; the third was the Old Man of the Mountain who maddened his -people with hashish that they might murder other people with daggers. It -does not really much matter what one does.</p> - -<p>The Sultan in <i>Hassan</i> would have understood all those three men; indeed -he was all those three men. But this sort of universalist cannot have -what we call a character; it is what we call a chaos. He cannot choose; -he cannot fight; he cannot repent; he cannot hope. He is not in the same -sense creating something; for creation means rejection. He is not, in -our religious phrase, making his soul. For our doctrine of salvation -does really mean a labour like that of a man trying to make a statue -beautiful; a victory with wings. For that there must be a final choice; -for a man cannot make statues without rejecting stone. And there really -is this ultimate<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_272" id="page_272">{272}</a></span> unmorality behind the metaphysics of Asia. And the -reason is that there has been nothing through all those unthinkable ages -to bring the human mind sharply to the point; to tell it that the time -has come to choose. The mind has lived too much in eternity. The soul -has been too immortal; in the special sense that it ignores the idea of -mortal sin. It has had too much of eternity, in the sense that it has -not had enough of the hour of death and the day of judgment. It is not -crucial enough; in the literal sense that it has not had enough of the -cross. That is what we mean when we say that Asia is very old. But -strictly speaking Europe is quite as old as Asia; indeed in a sense any -place is as old as any other place. What we mean is that Europe has not -merely gone on growing older. It has been born again.</p> - -<p>Asia is all humanity; as it has worked out its human doom. Asia, in its -vast territory, in its varied populations, in its heights of past -achievement and its depths of dark speculation, is itself a world; and -represents something of what we mean when we speak of the world. It is a -cosmos rather than a continent. It is the world as man has made it; and -contains many of the most wonderful things that man has made. Therefore -Asia stands as the one representative of paganism and the one rival to -Christendom. But everywhere else where we get glimpses of that mortal -destiny, they suggest stages in the same story. Where Asia trails away -into the southern archipelagoes of the savages, or where a darkness full -of nameless shapes dwells in the heart of Africa, or where the last -survivors of lost races linger in the cold volcano of prehistoric -America, it is all the same story; sometimes perhaps later chapters of -the same story. It is men entangled in the forest of their own -mythology; it is men drowned in the sea of their own metaphysics. -Polytheists have grown weary of the wildest of fictions. Monotheists -have grown<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_273" id="page_273">{273}</a></span> weary of the most wonderful of truths. Diabolists here and -there have such a hatred of heaven and earth that they have tried to -take refuge in hell. It is the Fall of Man; and it is exactly that fall -that was being felt by our own fathers at the first moment of the Roman -decline. We also were going down that wide road; down that easy slope; -following the magnificent procession of the high civilisations of the -world.</p> - -<p>If the Church had not entered the world then, it seems probable that -Europe would be now very much what Asia is now. Something may be allowed -for a real difference of race and environment, visible in the ancient as -in the modern world. But after all we talk about the changeless East -very largely because it has not suffered the great change. Paganism in -its last phase showed considerable signs of becoming equally changeless. -This would not mean that new schools or sects of philosophy would not -arise; as new schools did arise in Antiquity and do arise in Asia. It -does not mean that there would be no real mystics or visionaries; as -there were mystics in Antiquity and are mystics in Asia. It does not -mean that there would be no social codes, as there were codes in -Antiquity and are codes in Asia. It does not mean that there could not -be good men or happy lives, for God has given all men a conscience and -conscience can give all men a kind of peace. But it does mean that the -tone and proportion of all these things, and especially the proportion -of good and evil things, would be in the unchanged West what they are in -the changeless East. And nobody who looks at that changeless East -honestly, and with a real sympathy, can believe that there is anything -there remotely resembling the challenge and revolution of the Faith.</p> - -<p>In short, if classic paganism had lingered until now, a number of things -might well have lingered with it; and they would look very like what we -call the religions of the East. There would still be<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_274" id="page_274">{274}</a></span> Pythagoreans -teaching reincarnation, as there are still Hindus teaching -reincarnation. There would still be Stoics making a religion out of -reason and virtue, as there are still Confucians making a religion out -of reason and virtue. There would still be Neo-Platonists studying -transcendental truths, the meaning of which was mysterious to other -people and disputed even amongst themselves; as the Buddhists still -study a transcendentalism mysterious to others and disputed among -themselves. There would still be intelligent Apollonians apparently -worshipping the sun-god but explaining that they were worshipping the -divine principle; just as there are still intelligent Parsees apparently -worshipping the sun but explaining that they are worshipping the deity. -There would still be wild Dionysians dancing on the mountain as there -are still wild Dervishes dancing in the desert. There would still be -crowds of people attending the popular feasts of the gods, in pagan -Europe as in pagan Asia. There would still be crowds of gods, local and -other, for them to worship. And there would still be a great many more -people who worshipped them than people who believed in them. Finally -there would still be a very large number of people who did worship gods -and did believe in gods; and who believed in gods and worshipped gods -simply because they were demons. There would still be Levantines -secretly sacrificing to Moloch as there are still Thugs secretly -sacrificing to Kalee. There would still be a great deal of magic; and a -great deal of it would be black magic. There would still be a -considerable admiration of Seneca and a considerable imitation of Nero; -just as the exalted epigrams of Confucius could coexist with the -tortures of China. And over all that tangled forest of traditions -growing wild or withering would brood the broad silence of a singular -and even nameless mood; but the nearest name of it is nothing. All these -things, good and bad, would have an indescribable air of being too old -to die.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_275" id="page_275">{275}</a></span></p> - -<p>None of these things occupying Europe in the absence of Christendom -would bear the least likeness to Christendom. Since the Pythagorean -Metempsychosis would still be there, we might call it the Pythagorean -religion as we talk about the Buddhist religion. As the noble maxims of -Socrates would still be there, we might call it the Socratic religion as -we talk about the Confucian religion. As the popular holiday was still -marked by a mythological hymn to Adonis, we might call it the religion -of Adonis as we talk about the religion of Juggernaut. As literature -would still be based on the Greek mythology, we might call that -mythology a religion, as we call the Hindu mythology a religion. We -might say that there were so many thousands or millions of people -belonging to that religion, in the sense of frequenting such temples or -merely living in a land full of such temples. But if we called the last -tradition of Pythagoras or the lingering legend of Adonis by the name of -a religion, then we must find some other name for the Church of Christ.</p> - -<p>If anybody says that philosophic maxims preserved through many ages, or -mythological temples frequented by many people, are things of the same -class and category as the Church, it is enough to answer quite simply -that they are not. Nobody thinks they are the same when he sees them in -the old civilisation of Greece and Rome; nobody would think they were -the same if that civilisation had lasted two thousand years longer and -existed at the present day; nobody can in reason think they are the same -in the parallel pagan civilisation in the East, as it is at the present -day. None of these philosophies or mythologies are anything like a -Church; certainly nothing like a Church Militant. And, as I have shown -elsewhere, even if this rule were not already proved, the exception -would prove the rule. The rule is that pre-Christian or pagan history -does not produce a Church Militant; and the exception, or<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_276" id="page_276">{276}</a></span> what some -would call the exception, is that Islam is at least militant if it is -not Church. And that is precisely because Islam is the one religious -rival that is <i>not</i> pre-Christian and therefore not in that sense pagan. -Islam was a product of Christianity; even if it was a by-product; even -if it was a bad product. It was a heresy or parody emulating and -therefore imitating the Church. It is no more surprising that -Mahomedanism had something of her fighting spirit than that Quakerism -had something of her peaceful spirit. After Christianity there are any -number of such emulations or extensions. Before it there are none.</p> - -<p>The Church Militant is thus unique because it is an army marching to -effect a universal deliverance. The bondage from which the world is thus -to be delivered is something that is very well symbolised by the state -of Asia as by the state of pagan Europe. I do not mean merely their -moral or immoral state. The missionary, as a matter of fact, has much -more to say for himself than the enlightened imagine, even when he says -that the heathen are idolatrous and immoral. A touch or two of realistic -experience about Eastern religion, even about Moslem religion, will -reveal some startling insensibilities in ethics; such as the practical -indifference to the line between passion and perversion. It is not -prejudice but practical experience which says that Asia is full of -demons as well as gods. But the evil I mean is in the mind. And it is in -the mind wherever the mind has worked for a long time alone. It is what -happens when all dreaming and thinking have come to an end in an -emptiness that is at once negation and necessity. It sounds like an -anarchy, but it is also a slavery. It is what has been called already -the wheel of Asia; all those recurrent arguments about cause and effect -or things beginning and ending in the mind, which make it impossible for -the soul really to strike out and go anywhere or do anything. And the -point is that it<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_277" id="page_277">{277}</a></span> is not necessarily peculiar to Asiatics; it would have -been true in the end of Europeans—if something had not happened. If the -Church Militant had not been a thing marching, all men would have been -marking time. If the Church Militant had not endured a discipline, all -men would have endured a slavery.</p> - -<p>What that universal yet fighting faith brought into the world was hope. -Perhaps the one thing common to mythology and philosophy was that both -were really sad; in the sense that they had not this hope even if they -had touches of faith or charity. We may call Buddhism a faith; though to -us it seems more like a doubt. We may call the Lord of Compassion a Lord -of Charity; though it seems to us a very pessimist sort of pity. But -those who insist most on the antiquity and size of such cults must agree -that in all their ages they have not covered all their areas with that -sort of practical and pugnacious hope. In Christendom hope has never -been absent; rather it has been errant, extravagant, excessively fixed -upon fugitive chances. Its perpetual revolution and reconstruction has -at least been an evidence of people being in better spirits. Europe did -very truly renew its youth like the eagles; just as the eagles of Rome -rose again over the legions of Napoleon, or we have seen soaring but -yesterday the silver eagle of Poland. But in the Polish case even -revolution always went with religion. Napoleon himself sought a -reconciliation with religion. Religion could never be finally separated -even from the most hostile of the hopes; simply because it was the real -source of the hopefulness. And the cause of this is to be found simply -in the religion itself. Those who quarrel about it seldom even consider -it in itself. There is neither space nor place for such a full -consideration here; but a word may be said to explain a reconciliation -that always recurs and still seems to require explanation.</p> - -<p>There will be no end to the weary debates about<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_278" id="page_278">{278}</a></span> liberalising theology, -until people face the fact that the only liberal part of it is really -the dogmatic part. If dogma is incredible, it is because it is -incredibly liberal. If it is irrational, it can only be in giving us -more assurance of freedom than is justified by reason. The obvious -example is that essential form of freedom which we call free-will. It is -absurd to say that a man shows his liberality in denying his liberty. -But it is tenable that he has to affirm a transcendental doctrine in -order to affirm his liberty. There is a sense in which we might -reasonably say that if man has a primary power of choice, he has in that -fact a supernatural power of creation, as if he could raise the dead or -give birth to the unbegotten. Possibly in that case a man must be a -miracle; and certainly in that case he must be a miracle in order to be -a man; and most certainly in order to be a free man. But it is absurd to -forbid him to be a free man and do it in the name of a more free -religion.</p> - -<p>But it is true in twenty other matters. Anybody who believes at all in -God must believe in the absolute supremacy of God. But in so far as that -supremacy does allow of any degrees that can be called liberal or -illiberal, it is self-evident that the illiberal power is the deity of -the rationalists and the liberal power is the deity of the dogmatists. -Exactly in proportion as you turn monotheism into monism you turn it -into despotism. It is precisely the unknown God of the scientist, with -his impenetrable purpose and his inevitable and unalterable law, that -reminds us of a Prussian autocrat making rigid plans in a remote tent -and moving mankind like machinery. It is precisely the God of miracles -and of answered prayers who reminds us of a liberal and popular prince, -receiving petitions, listening to parliaments and considering the cases -of a whole people. I am not now arguing the rationality of this -conception in other respects; as a matter of fact it is not, as some -suppose, irrational; for there is nothing irrational in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_279" id="page_279">{279}</a></span> the wisest and -most well-informed king acting differently according to the action of -those he wishes to save. But I am here only noting the general nature of -liberality, or of free or enlarged atmosphere of action. And in this -respect it is certain that the king can only be what we call magnanimous -if he is what some call capricious. It is the Catholic, who has the -feeling that his prayers do make a difference when offered for the -living and the dead, who also has the feeling of living like a free -citizen in something almost like a constitutional commonwealth. It is -the monist who lives under a single iron law who must have the feeling -of living like a slave under a sultan. Indeed I believe that the -original use of the word <i>suffragium</i>, which we now use in politics for -a vote, was that employed in theology about a prayer. The dead in -Purgatory were said to have the suffrages of the living. And in this -sense, of a sort of right of petition to the supreme ruler, we may truly -say that the whole of the Communion of Saints, as well as the whole of -the Church Militant, is founded on universal suffrage.</p> - -<p>But above all, it is true of the most tremendous issue; of that tragedy -which has created the divine comedy of our creed. Nothing short of the -extreme and strong and startling doctrine of the divinity of Christ will -give that particular effect that can truly stir the popular sense like a -trumpet; the idea of the king himself serving in the ranks like a common -soldier. By making that figure merely human we make that story much less -human. We take away the point of the story which actually pierces -humanity; the point of the story which was quite literally the point of -a spear. It does not especially humanise the universe to say that good -and wise men can die for their opinions; any more than it would be any -sort of uproariously popular news in an army that good soldiers may -easily get killed. It is no news that King Leonidas is dead any more -than that Queen<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_280" id="page_280">{280}</a></span> Anne is dead; and men did not wait for Christianity to -be men, in the full sense of being heroes. But if we are describing, for -the moment, the atmosphere of what is generous and popular and even -picturesque, any knowledge of human nature will tell us that no -sufferings of the sons of men, or even of the servants of God, strike -the same note as the notion of the master suffering instead of his -servants. And this is given by the theological and emphatically not by -the scientific deity. No mysterious monarch, hidden in his starry -pavilion at the base of the cosmic campaign, is in the least like that -celestial chivalry of the Captain who carries his five wounds in the -front of battle.</p> - -<p>What the denouncer of dogma really means is not that dogma is bad; but -rather that dogma is too good to be true. That is, he means that dogma -is too liberal to be likely. Dogma gives man too much freedom when it -permits him to fall. Dogma gives even God too much freedom when it -permits him to die. That is what the intelligent sceptics ought to say; -and it is not in the least my intention to deny that there is something -to be said for it. They mean that the universe is itself a universal -prison; that existence itself is a limitation and a control; and it is -not for nothing that they call causation a chain. In a word, they mean -quite simply that they cannot believe these things; not in the least -that they are unworthy of belief. We say, not lightly but very -literally, that the truth has made us free. They say that it makes us so -free that it cannot be the truth. To them it is like believing in -fairyland to believe in such freedom as we enjoy. It is like believing -in men with wings to entertain the fancy of men with wills. It is like -accepting a fable about a squirrel in conversation with a mountain to -believe in a man who is free to ask or a God who is free to answer. This -is a manly and a rational negation, for which I for one shall always -show respect. But I decline to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_281" id="page_281">{281}</a></span> show any respect for those who first of -all clip the bird and cage the squirrel, rivet the chains and refuse the -freedom, close all the doors of the cosmic prison on us with a clang of -eternal iron, tell us that our emancipation is a dream and our dungeon a -necessity; and then calmly turn round and tell us they have a freer -thought and a more liberal theology.</p> - -<p>The moral of all this is an old one; that religion is revelation. In -other words, it is a vision, and a vision received by faith; but it is a -vision of reality. The faith consists in a conviction of its reality. -That, for example, is the difference between a vision and a day-dream. -And that is the difference between religion and mythology. That is the -difference between faith and all that fancy-work, quite human and more -or less healthy, which we considered under the head of mythology. There -is something in the reasonable use of the very word vision that implies -two things about it; first that it comes very rarely, possibly that it -comes only once; and secondly that it probably comes once and for all. A -day-dream may come every day. A day-dream may be different every day. It -is something more than the difference between telling ghost-stories and -meeting a ghost.</p> - -<p>But if it is not a mythology neither is it a philosophy. It is not a -philosophy because, being a vision, it is not a pattern but a picture. -It is not one of those simplifications which resolve everything into an -abstract explanation; as that everything is recurrent; or everything is -relative; or everything is inevitable; or everything is illusive. It is -not a process but a story. It has proportions, of the sort seen in a -picture or a story; it has not the regular repetitions of a pattern or a -process; but it replaces them by being convincing as a picture or a -story is convincing. In other words, it is exactly, as the phrase goes, -like life. For indeed it is life. An example of what is meant here might -well be found in the treatment of the problem of evil. It is easy<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_282" id="page_282">{282}</a></span> -enough to make a plan of life of which the background is black, as the -pessimists do; and then admit a speck or two of star-dust more or less -accidental, or at least in the literal sense insignificant. And it is -easy enough to make another plan on white paper, as the Christian -Scientists do, and explain or explain away somehow such dots or smudges -as may be difficult to deny. Lastly it is easiest of all, perhaps, to -say as the dualists do, that life is like a chess-board in which the two -are equal; and can as truly be said to consist of white squares on a -black board or of black squares on a white board. But every man feels in -his heart that none of these three paper plans is like life; that none -of these worlds is one in which he can live. Something tells him that -the ultimate idea of a world is not bad or even neutral; staring at the -sky or the grass or the truths of mathematics or even a new-laid egg, he -has a vague feeling like the shadow of that saying of the great -Christian philosopher, St. Thomas Aquinas, ‘Every existence, as such, is -good.’ On the other hand, something else tells him that it is unmanly -and debased and even diseased to minimise evil to a dot or even a blot. -He realises that optimism is morbid. It is if possible even more morbid -than pessimism. These vague but healthy feelings, if he followed them -out, would result in the idea that evil is in some way an exception but -an enormous exception; and ultimately that evil is an invasion or yet -more truly a rebellion. He does not think that everything is right or -that everything is wrong, or that everything is equally right and wrong. -But he does think that right has a right to be right and therefore a -right to be there; and wrong has no right to be wrong and therefore no -right to be there. It is the prince of the world; but it is also a -usurper. So he will apprehend vaguely what the vision will give to him -vividly; no less than all that strange story of treason in heaven and -the great desertion by which evil damaged and tried<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_283" id="page_283">{283}</a></span> to destroy a cosmos -that it could not create. It is a very strange story and its proportions -and its lines and colours are as arbitrary and absolute as the artistic -composition of a picture. It is a vision which we do in fact symbolise -in pictures by titanic limbs and passionate tints of plumage; all that -abysmal vision of falling stars and the peacock panoplies of the night. -But that strange story has one small advantage over the diagrams. It is -like life.</p> - -<p>Another example might be found, not in the problem of evil, but in what -is called the problem of progress. One of the ablest agnostics of the -age once asked me whether I thought mankind grew better or grew worse or -remained the same. He was confident that the alternative covered all -possibilities. He did not see that it only covered patterns and not -pictures; processes and not stories. I asked him whether he thought that -Mr. Smith of Golder’s Green got better or worse or remained exactly the -same between the age of thirty and forty. It then seemed to dawn on him -that it would rather depend on Mr. Smith; and how he chose to go on. It -had never occurred to him that it might depend on how mankind chose to -go on; and that its course was not a straight line or an upward or -downward curve, but a track like that of a man across a valley, going -where he liked and stopping where he chose, going into a church or -falling drunk in a ditch. The life of man is a story; an adventure -story; and in our vision the same is true even of the story of God.</p> - -<p>The Catholic faith is the reconciliation because it is the realisation -both of mythology and philosophy. It is a story and in that sense one of -a hundred stories; only it is a true story. It is a philosophy and in -that sense one of a hundred philosophies; only it is a philosophy that -is like life. But above all, it is a reconciliation because it is -something that can only be called the philosophy of stories. That normal -narrative instinct which produced all the fairy-tales<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_284" id="page_284">{284}</a></span> is something that -is neglected by all the philosophies—except one. The Faith is the -justification of that popular instinct; the finding of a philosophy for -it or the analysis of the philosophy in it. Exactly as a man in an -adventure story has to pass various tests to save his life, so the man -in this philosophy has to pass several tests and save his soul. In both -there is an idea of free will operating under conditions of design; in -other words, there is an aim and it is the business of a man to aim at -it; we therefore watch to see whether he will hit it. Now this deep and -democratic and dramatic instinct is derided and dismissed in all the -other philosophies. For all the other philosophies avowedly end where -they begin; and it is the definition of a story that it ends -differently; that it begins in one place and ends in another. From -Buddha and his wheel to Akhen-Aten and his disc, from Pythagoras with -his abstraction of number to Confucius with his religion of routine, -there is not one of them that does not in some way sin against the soul -of a story. There is none of them that really grasps this human notion -of the tale, the test, the adventure; the ordeal of the free man. Each -of them starves the story-telling instinct, so to speak, and does -something to spoil human life considered as a romance; either by -fatalism (pessimist or optimist) and that destiny that is the death of -adventure; or by indifference and that detachment that is the death of -drama; or by a fundamental scepticism that dissolves the actors into -atoms; or by a materialistic limitation blocking the vista of moral -consequences; or a mechanical recurrence making even moral tests -monotonous; or a bottomless relativity making even practical tests -insecure. There is such a thing as a human story; and there is such a -thing as the divine story which is also a human story. But there is no -such thing as a Hegelian story or a Monist story or a relativist story -or a determinist story. For every story, yes, even a penny dreadful or a -cheap novelette,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_285" id="page_285">{285}</a></span> has something in it that belongs to our universe and -not theirs. Every short story does truly begin with creation and end -with a last judgment.</p> - -<p>And <i>that</i> is the reason why the myths and the philosophers were at war -until Christ came. That is why the Athenian democracy killed Socrates -out of respect for the gods; and why every strolling sophist gave -himself the airs of a Socrates whenever he could talk in a superior -fashion of the gods; and why the heretic Pharaoh wrecked his huge idols -and temples for an abstraction and why the priests could return in -triumph and trample his dynasty under foot; and why Buddhism had to -divide itself from Brahminism, and why in every age and country outside -Christendom there has been a feud for ever between the philosopher and -the priest. It is easy enough to say that the philosopher is generally -the more rational; it is easier still to forget that the priest is -always the more popular. For the priest told the people stories; and the -philosopher did not understand the philosophy of stories. It came into -the world with the story of Christ.</p> - -<p>And this is why it had to be a revelation or vision given from above. -Any one who will think of the theory of stories or pictures will easily -see the point. The true story of the world must be told by somebody to -somebody else. By the very nature of a story it cannot be left to occur -to anybody. A story has proportions, variations, surprises, particular -dispositions, which cannot be worked out by rule in the abstract, like a -sum. We could not deduce whether or no Achilles would give back the body -of Hector from a Pythagorean theory of number or recurrence; and we -could not infer for ourselves in what way the world would get back the -body of Christ, merely from being told that all things go round and -round upon the wheel of Buddha. A man might perhaps work out a -proposition of Euclid without having heard of Euclid; but he would not -work out the precise legend<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_286" id="page_286">{286}</a></span> of Eurydice without having heard of -Eurydice. At any rate he would not be certain how the story would end -and whether Orpheus was ultimately defeated. Still less could he guess -the end of our story; or the legend of our Orpheus rising, not defeated, -from the dead.</p> - -<p>To sum up; the sanity of the world was restored and the soul of man -offered salvation by something which did indeed satisfy the two warring -tendencies of the past; which had never been satisfied in full and most -certainly never satisfied together. It met the mythological search for -romance by being a story and the philosophical search for truth by being -a true story. That is why the ideal figure had to be a historical -character, as nobody had ever felt Adonis or Pan to be a historical -character. But that is also why the historical character had to be the -ideal figure; and even fulfil many of the functions given to these other -ideal figures; why he was at once the sacrifice and the feast, why he -could be shown under the emblems of the growing vine or the rising sun. -The more deeply we think of the matter the more we shall conclude that, -if there be indeed a God, his creation could hardly have reached any -other culmination than this granting of a real romance to the world. -Otherwise the two sides of the human mind could never have touched at -all; and the brain of man would have remained cloven and double; one -lobe of it dreaming impossible dreams and the other repeating invariable -calculations. The picture-makers would have remained for ever painting -the portrait of nobody. The sages would have remained for ever adding up -numerals that came to nothing. It was that abyss that nothing but an -incarnation could cover; a divine embodiment of our dreams; and he -stands above that chasm whose name is more than priest and older even -than Christendom; Pontifex Maximus, the mightiest maker of a bridge.</p> - -<p>But even with that we return to the more specially<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_287" id="page_287">{287}</a></span> Christian symbol in -the same tradition; the perfect pattern of the keys. This is a -historical and not a theological outline, and it is not my duty here to -defend in detail that theology, but merely to point out that it could -not even be justified in design without being justified in detail—like -a key. Beyond the broad suggestion of this chapter I attempt no -apologetic about why the creed should be accepted. But in answer to the -historical query of why it was accepted, and is accepted, I answer for -millions of others in my reply; because it fits the lock; because it is -like life. It is one among many stories; only it happens to be a true -story. It is one among many philosophies; only it happens to be the -truth. We accept it; and the ground is solid under our feet and the road -is open before us. It does not imprison us in a dream of destiny or a -consciousness of the universal delusion. It opens to us not only -incredible heavens, but what seems to some an equally incredible earth, -and makes it credible. This is the sort of truth that is hard to explain -because it is a fact; but it is a fact to which we can call witnesses. -We are Christians and Catholics not because we worship a key, but -because we have passed a door; and felt the wind that is the trumpet of -liberty blow over the land of the living.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_288" id="page_288">{288}</a></span></p> - -<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VI-b" id="CHAPTER_VI-b"></a>CHAPTER VI<br /><br /> -THE FIVE DEATHS OF THE FAITH</h3> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">It</span> is not the purpose of this book to trace the subsequent history of -Christianity, especially the later history of Christianity; which -involves controversies of which I hope to write more fully elsewhere. It -is devoted only to the suggestion that Christianity, appearing amid -heathen humanity, had all the character of a unique thing and even of a -supernatural thing. It was not like any of the other things; and the -more we study it the less it looks like any of them. But there is a -certain rather peculiar character which marked it henceforward even down -to the present moment, with a note on which this book may well conclude.</p> - -<p>I have said that Asia and the ancient world had an air of being too old -to die. Christendom has had the very opposite fate. Christendom has had -a series of revolutions and in each one of them Christianity has died. -Christianity has died many times and risen again; for it had a god who -knew the way out of the grave. But the first extraordinary fact which -marks this history is this: that Europe has been turned upside down over -and over again; and that at the end of each of these revolutions the -same religion has again been found on top. The Faith is always -converting the age, not as an old religion but as a new religion. This -truth is hidden from many by a convention that is too little noticed. -Curiously enough, it is a convention of the sort which those who ignore -it claim especially to detect and denounce. They are always telling us -that priests and ceremonies<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_289" id="page_289">{289}</a></span> are not religion and that religious -organisation can be a hollow sham; but they hardly realise how true it -is. It is so true that three or four times at least in the history of -Christendom the whole soul seemed to have gone out of Christianity; and -almost every man in his heart expected its end. This fact is only masked -in medieval and other times by that very official religion which such -critics pride themselves on seeing through. Christianity remained the -official religion of a Renaissance prince or the official religion of an -eighteenth-century bishop, just as an ancient mythology remained the -official religion of Julius Caesar or the Arian creed long remained the -official religion of Julian the Apostate. But there was a difference -between the cases of Julius and of Julian; because the Church had begun -its strange career. There was no reason why men like Julius should not -worship gods like Jupiter for ever in public and laugh at them for ever -in private. But when Julian treated Christianity as dead, he found it -had come to life again. He also found, incidentally, that there was not -the faintest sign of Jupiter ever coming to life again. This case of -Julian and the episode of Arianism is but the first of a series of -examples that can only be roughly indicated here. Arianism, as has been -said, had every human appearance of being the natural way in which that -particular superstition of Constantine might be expected to peter out. -All the ordinary stages had been passed through; the creed had become a -respectable thing, had become a ritual thing, had then been modified -into a rational thing; and the rationalists were ready to dissipate the -last remains of it, just as they do to-day. When Christianity rose again -suddenly and threw them, it was almost as unexpected as Christ rising -from the dead. But there are many other examples of the same thing, even -about the same time. The rush of missionaries from Ireland, for -instance, has all the air of an unexpected onslaught of young men on an -old<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_290" id="page_290">{290}</a></span> world, and even on a Church that showed signs of growing old. Some -of them were martyred on the coast of Cornwall; and the chief authority -on Cornish antiquities told me that he did not believe for a moment that -they were martyred by heathens but (as he expressed it with some humour) -‘by rather slack Christians.’</p> - -<p>Now if we were to dip below the surface of history, as it is not in the -scope of this argument to do, I suspect that we should find several -occasions when Christendom was thus to all appearance hollowed out from -within by doubt and indifference, so that only the old Christian shell -stood as the Pagan shell had stood so long. But the difference is that -in every such case, the sons were fanatical for the faith where the -fathers had been slack about it. This is obvious in the case of the -transition from the Renaissance to the Counter-Reformation. It is -obvious in the case of a transition from the eighteenth century to the -many Catholic revivals of our own time. But I suspect many other -examples which would be worthy of separate studies.</p> - -<p>The Faith is not a survival. It is not as if the Druids had managed -somehow to survive somewhere for two thousand years. That is what might -have happened in Asia or ancient Europe, in that indifference or -tolerance in which mythologies and philosophies could live for ever side -by side. It has not survived; it has returned again and again in this -western world of rapid change and institutions perpetually perishing. -Europe, in the tradition of Rome, was always trying revolution and -reconstruction; rebuilding a universal republic. And it always began by -rejecting this old stone and ended by making it the head of the corner; -by bringing it back from the rubbish-heap to make it the crown of the -capitol. Some stones of Stonehenge are standing and some are fallen; and -as the stone falleth so shall it lie. There has not been a Druidic -renaissance every<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_291" id="page_291">{291}</a></span> century or two, with the young Druids crowned with -fresh mistletoe, dancing in the sun on Salisbury Plain. Stonehenge has -not been rebuilt in every style of architecture from the rude round -Norman to the last rococo of the Baroque. The sacred place of the Druids -is safe from the vandalism of restoration.</p> - -<p>But the Church in the West was not in a world where things were too old -to die; but in one in which they were always young enough to get killed. -The consequence was that superficially and externally it often did get -killed; nay, it sometimes wore out even without getting killed. And -there follows a fact I find it somewhat difficult to describe, yet which -I believe to be very real and rather important. As a ghost is the shadow -of a man, and in that sense the shadow of life, so at intervals there -passed across this endless life a sort of shadow of death. It came at -the moment when it would have perished had it been perishable. It -withered away everything that was perishable. If such animal parallels -were worthy of the occasion, we might say that the snake shuddered and -shed a skin and went on, or even that the cat went into convulsions as -it lost only one of its nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine lives. It is truer -to say, in a more dignified image, that a clock struck and nothing -happened; or that a bell tolled for an execution that was everlastingly -postponed.</p> - -<p>What was the meaning of all that dim but vast unrest of the twelfth -century; when, as it has been so finely said, Julian stirred in his -sleep? Why did there appear so strangely early, in the twilight of dawn -after the Dark Ages, so deep a scepticism as that involved in urging -nominalism against realism? For realism against nominalism was really -realism against rationalism, or something more destructive than what we -call rationalism. The answer is that just as some might have thought the -Church simply a part of the Roman Empire, so others later might have -thought the Church only a part of the Dark<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_292" id="page_292">{292}</a></span> Ages. The Dark Ages ended as -the Empire had ended; and the Church should have departed with them, if -she had been also one of the shades of night. It was another of those -spectral deaths or simulations of death. I mean that if nominalism had -succeeded, it would have been as if Arianism had succeeded; it would -have been the beginning of a confession that Christianity had failed. -For nominalism is a far more fundamental scepticism than mere atheism. -Such was the question that was openly asked as the Dark Ages broadened -into that daylight that we call the modern world. But what was the -answer? The answer was Aquinas in the chair of Aristotle, taking all -knowledge for his province; and tens of thousands of lads, down to the -lowest ranks of peasant and serf, living in rags and on crusts about the -great colleges, to listen to the scholastic philosophy.</p> - -<p>What was the meaning of all that whisper of fear that ran round the West -under the shadow of Islam, and fills every old romance with incongruous -images of Saracen knights swaggering in Norway or the Hebrides? Why were -men in the extreme West, such as King John if I remember rightly, -accused of being secretly Moslems, as men are accused of being secretly -atheists? Why was there that fierce alarm among some of the authorities -about the rationalistic Arab version or Aristotle? Authorities are -seldom alarmed like that except when it is too late. The answer is that -hundreds of people probably believed in their hearts that Islam would -conquer Christendom; that Averroes was more rational than Anselm; that -the Saracen culture was really, as it was superficially, a superior -culture. Here again we should probably find a whole generation, the -older generation, very doubtful and depressed and weary. The coming of -Islam would only have been the coming of Unitarianism a thousand years -before its time. To many it may have seemed quite reasonable and quite -probable and quite likely to happen. If so, they would have<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_293" id="page_293">{293}</a></span> been -surprised at what did happen. What did happen was a roar like thunder -from thousands and thousands of young men, throwing all their youth into -one exultant counter-charge; the Crusades. It was the sons of St. -Francis, the Jugglers of God, wandering singing over all the roads of -the world; it was the Gothic going up like a flight of arrows; it was -the waking of the world. In considering the war of the Albigensians, we -come to the breach in the heart of Europe and the landslide of a new -philosophy that nearly ended Christendom for ever. In that case the new -philosophy was also a very new philosophy; it was pessimism. It was none -the less like modern ideas because it was as old as Asia; most modern -ideas are. It was the Gnostics returning; but why did the Gnostics -return? Because it was the end of an epoch, like the end of the Empire; -and should have been the end of the Church. It was Schopenhauer hovering -over the future; but it was also Manichaeus rising from the dead; that -men might have death and that they might have it more abundantly.</p> - -<p>It is rather more obvious in the case of the Renaissance, simply because -the period is so much nearer to us and people know so much more about -it. But there is more even in that example than most people know. Apart -from the particular controversies which I wish to reserve for a separate -study, the period was far more chaotic than those controversies commonly -imply. When Protestants call Latimer a martyr to Protestantism, and -Catholics reply that Campion was a martyr to Catholicism, it is often -forgotten that many perished in such persecutions who could only be -described as martyrs to atheism or anarchism or even diabolism. That -world was almost as wild as our own; the men wandering about in it -included the sort of man who says there is no God, the sort of man who -says he is himself God, the sort of man who says something that nobody -can make head or<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_294" id="page_294">{294}</a></span> tail of. If we could have the <i>conversation</i> of the -age following the Renaissance, we should probably be shocked by its -shameless negations. The remarks attributed to Marlowe are probably -pretty typical of the talk in many intellectual taverns. The transition -from Pre-Reformation to Post-Reformation Europe was through a void of -very yawning questions; yet again in the long run the answer was the -same. It was one of those moments when, as Christ walked on the water, -so was Christianity walking in the air.</p> - -<p>But all these cases are remote in date and could only be proved in -detail. We can see the fact much more clearly in the case when the -paganism of the Renaissance ended Christianity and Christianity -unaccountably began all over again. But we can see it most clearly of -all in the case which is close to us and full of manifest and minute -evidence; the case of the great decline of religion that began about the -time of Voltaire. For indeed it is our own case; and we ourselves have -seen the decline of that decline. The two hundred years since Voltaire -do not flash past us at a glance like the fourth and fifth centuries or -the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. In our own case we can see this -oft-repeated process close at hand; we know how completely a society can -lose its fundamental religion without abolishing its official religion; -we know how men can all become agnostics long before they abolish -bishops. And we know that also in this last ending, which really did -look to us like the final ending, the incredible thing has happened -again; the Faith has a better following among the young men than among -the old. When Ibsen spoke of the new generation knocking at the door, he -certainly never expected that it would be the church-door.</p> - -<p>At least five times, therefore, with the Arian and the Albigensian, with -the Humanist sceptic, after Voltaire and after Darwin, the Faith has to -all appearance gone to the dogs. In each of these five<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_295" id="page_295">{295}</a></span> cases it was the -dog that died. How complete was the collapse and how strange the -reversal, we can only see in detail in the case nearest to our own time.</p> - -<p>A thousand things have been said about the Oxford Movement and the -parallel French Catholic revival; but few have made us feel the simplest -fact about it; that it was a surprise. It was a puzzle as well as a -surprise; because it seemed to most people like a river turning -backwards from the sea and trying to climb back into the mountains. To -have read the literature of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries is -to know that nearly everybody had come to take it for granted that -religion was a thing that would continually broaden like a river, till -it reached an infinite sea. Some of them expected it to go down in a -cataract of catastrophe, most of them expected it to widen into an -estuary of equality and moderation; but all of them thought its -returning on itself a prodigy as incredible as witchcraft. In other -words, most moderate people thought that faith like freedom would be -slowly broadened down; and some advanced people thought that it would be -very rapidly broadened down, not to say flattened out. All that world of -Guizot and Macaulay and the commercial and scientific liberality was -perhaps more certain than any men before or since about the direction in -which the world is going. People were so certain about the direction -that they only differed about the pace. Many anticipated with alarm, and -a few with sympathy, a Jacobin revolt that should guillotine the -Archbishop of Canterbury or a Chartist riot that should hang the parsons -on the lamp-posts. But it seemed like a convulsion in nature that the -Archbishop instead of losing his head should be looking for his mitre; -and that instead of diminishing the respect due to parsons we should -strengthen it to the respect due to priests. It revolutionised their -very vision of revolution; and turned their very topsyturvydom -topsy-turvy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_296" id="page_296">{296}</a></span></p> - -<p>In short, the whole world being divided about whether the stream was -going slower or faster, became conscious of something vague but vast -that was going against the stream. Both in fact and figure there is -something deeply disturbing about this, and that for an essential -reason. A dead thing can go with the stream, but only a living thing can -go against it. A dead dog can be lifted on the leaping water with all -the swiftness of a leaping hound; but only a live dog can swim -backwards. A paper boat can ride the rising deluge with all the airy -arrogance of a fairy ship; but if the fairy ship sails upstream it is -really rowed by the fairies. And among the things that merely went with -the tide of apparent progress and enlargement, there was many a -demagogue or sophist whose wild gestures were in truth as lifeless as -the movement of a dead dog’s limbs wavering in the eddying water; and -many a philosophy uncommonly like a paper boat, of the sort that it is -not difficult to knock into a cocked hat. But even the truly living and -even life-giving things that went with that stream did not thereby prove -that they were living or life-giving. It was this other force that was -unquestionably and unaccountably alive; the mysterious and unmeasured -energy that was thrusting back the river. That was felt to be like the -movement of some great monster; and it was none the less clearly a -living monster because most people thought it a prehistoric monster. It -was none the less an unnatural, an incongruous, and to some a comic -upheaval; as if the Great Sea Serpent had suddenly risen out of the -Round Pond—unless we consider the Sea Serpent as more likely to live in -the Serpentine. This flippant element in the fantasy must not be missed, -for it was one of the clearest testimonies to the unexpected nature of -the reversal. That age did really feel that a preposterous quality in -prehistoric animals belonged also to historic rituals; that mitres and -tiaras were like the horns or crests of antediluvian creatures; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_297" id="page_297">{297}</a></span> -that appealing to a Primitive Church was like dressing up as a Primitive -Man.</p> - -<p>The world is still puzzled by that movement; but most of all because it -still moves. I have said something elsewhere of the rather random sort -of reproaches that are still directed against it and its much greater -consequences; it is enough to say here that the more such critics -reproach it the less they explain it. In a sense it is my concern here, -if not to explain it, at least to suggest the direction of the -explanation; but above all, it is my concern to point out one particular -thing about it. And that is that it had all happened before; and even -many times before.</p> - -<p>To sum up, in so far as it is true that recent centuries have seen an -attenuation of Christian doctrine, recent centuries have only seen what -the most remote centuries have seen. And even the modern example has -only ended as the medieval and pre-medieval examples ended. It is -already clear, and grows clearer every day, that it is not going to end -in the disappearance of the diminished creed; but rather in the return -of those parts of it that had really disappeared. It is going to end as -the Arian compromise ended, as the attempts at a compromise with -Nominalism and even with Albigensianism ended. But the point to seize in -the modern case, as in all the other cases, is that what returns is not -in that sense a simplified theology; not according to that view a -purified theology; it is simply theology. It is that enthusiasm for -theological studies that marked the most doctrinal ages; it is the -divine science. An old Don with D.D. after his name may have become the -typical figure of a bore; but that was because he was himself bored with -his theology, not because he was excited about it. It was precisely -because he was admittedly more interested in the Latin of Plautus than -in the Latin of Augustine, in the Greek of Xenophon than in the Greek of -Chrysostom. It was precisely because he was more interested in a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_298" id="page_298">{298}</a></span> dead -tradition than in a decidedly living tradition. In short, it was -precisely because he was himself a type of the time in which Christian -faith was weak. It was not because men would not hail, if they could, -the wonderful and almost wild vision of a Doctor of Divinity.</p> - -<p>There are people who say they wish Christianity to remain as a spirit. -They mean, very literally, that they wish it to remain as a ghost. But -it is not going to remain as a ghost. What follows this process of -apparent death is not the lingering of the shade; it is the resurrection -of the body. These people are quite prepared to shed pious and -reverential tears over the Sepulchre of the Son of Man; what they are -not prepared for is the Son of God walking once more upon the hills of -morning. These people, and indeed most people, were indeed by this time -quite accustomed to the idea that the old Christian candle-light would -fade into the light of common day. To many of them it did quite honestly -appear like that pale yellow flame of a candle when it is left burning -in daylight. It was all the more unexpected, and therefore all the more -unmistakable, that the seven-branched candle-stick suddenly towered to -heaven like a miraculous tree and flamed until the sun turned pale. But -other ages have seen the day conquer the candle-light and then the -candle-light conquer the day. Again and again, before our time, men have -grown content with a diluted doctrine. And again and again there has -followed on that dilution, coming as out of the darkness in a crimson -cataract, the strength of the red original wine. And we only say once -more to-day as has been said many times by our fathers: ‘Long years and -centuries ago our fathers or the founders of our people drank, as they -dreamed, of the blood of God. Long years and centuries have passed since -the strength of that giant vintage has been anything but a legend of the -age of giants. Centuries ago already is the dark time<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_299" id="page_299">{299}</a></span> of the second -fermentation, when the wine of Catholicism turned into the vinegar of -Calvinism. Long since that bitter drink has been itself diluted; rinsed -out and washed away by the waters of oblivion and the wave of the world. -Never did we think to taste again even that bitter tang of sincerity and -the spirit, still less the richer and the sweeter strength of the purple -vineyards in our dreams of the age of gold. Day by day and year by year -we have lowered our hopes and lessened our convictions; we have grown -more and more used to seeing those vats and vineyards overwhelmed in the -water-floods and the last savour and suggestion of that special element -fading like a stain of purple upon a sea of grey. We have grown used to -dilution, to dissolution, to a watering down that went on for ever. But -Thou hast kept the good wine until now.’</p> - -<p>This is the final fact, and it is the most extraordinary of all. The -faith has not only often died but it has often died of old age. It has -not only been often killed but it has often died a natural death; in the -sense of coming to a natural and necessary end. It is obvious that it -has survived the most savage and the most universal persecutions from -the shock of the Diocletian fury to the shock of the French Revolution. -But it has a more strange and even a more weird tenacity; it has -survived not only war but peace. It has not only died often but -degenerated often and decayed often; it has survived its own weakness -and even its own surrender. We need not repeat what is so obvious about -the beauty of the end of Christ in its wedding of youth and death. But -this is almost as if Christ had lived to the last possible span, had -been a white-haired sage of a hundred and died of natural decay, and -then had risen again rejuvenated, with trumpets and the rending of the -sky. It was said truly enough that human Christianity in its recurrent -weakness was sometimes too much wedded to the powers of the world; but -if it<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_300" id="page_300">{300}</a></span> was wedded it has very often been widowed. It is a strangely -immortal sort of widow. An enemy may have said at one moment that it was -but an aspect of the power of the Caesars; and it sounds as strange -to-day as to call it an aspect of the Pharaohs. An enemy might say that -it was the official faith of feudalism; and it sounds as convincing now -as to say that it was bound to perish with the ancient Roman villa. All -these things did indeed run their course to its normal end; and there -seemed no course for the religion but to end with them. It ended and it -began again.</p> - -<p>‘Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my words shall not pass away.’ -The civilisation of antiquity was the whole world: and men no more -dreamed of its ending than of the ending of daylight. They could not -imagine another order unless it were in another world. The civilisation -of the world has passed away and those words have not passed away. In -the long night of the Dark Ages feudalism was so familiar a thing that -no man could imagine himself without a lord: and religion was so woven -into that network that no man would have believed they could be torn -asunder. Feudalism itself was torn to rags and rotted away in the -popular life of the true Middle Ages; and the first and freshest power -in that new freedom was the old religion. Feudalism had passed away, and -the words did not pass away. The whole medieval order, in many ways so -complete and almost cosmic a home for man, wore out gradually in its -turn: and here at least it was thought that the words would die. They -went forth across the radiant abyss of the Renaissance and in fifty -years were using all its light and learning for new religious -foundations, new apologetics, new saints. It was supposed to have been -withered up at last in the dry light of the Age of Reason; it was -supposed to have disappeared ultimately in the earthquake of the Age of -Revolution. Science explained it away; and it<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_301" id="page_301">{301}</a></span> was still there. History -disinterred it in the past; and it appeared suddenly in the future. -To-day it stands once more in our path; and even as we watch it, it -grows.</p> - -<p>If our social relations and records retain their continuity, if men -really learn to apply reason to the accumulating facts of so crushing a -story, it would seem that sooner or later even its enemies will learn -from their incessant and interminable disappointments not to look for -anything so simple as its death. They may continue to war with it, but -it will be as they war with nature; as they war with the landscape, as -they war with the skies. ‘Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my words -shall not pass away.’ They will watch for it to stumble; they will watch -for it to err; they will no longer watch for it to end. Insensibly, even -unconsciously, they will in their own silent anticipations fulfil the -relative terms of that astounding prophecy; they will forget to watch -for the mere extinction of what has so often been vainly extinguished; -and will learn instinctively to look first for the coming of the comet -or the freezing of the star.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_302" id="page_302">{302}</a></span></p> - -<h3><a name="CONCLUSION" id="CONCLUSION"></a>CONCLUSION<br /><br /> -THE SUMMARY OF THIS BOOK</h3> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">I have</span> taken the liberty once or twice of borrowing the excellent phrase -about an Outline of History; though this study of a special truth and a -special error can of course claim no sort of comparison with the rich -and many-sided encyclopedia of history, for which that name was chosen. -And yet there is a certain reason in the reference; and a sense in which -the one thing touches and even cuts across the other. For the story of -the world as told by Mr. Wells could here only be criticised as an -outline. And, strangely enough, it seems to me that it is only wrong as -an outline. It is admirable as an accumulation of history; it is -splendid as a storehouse or treasury of history; it is a fascinating -disquisition on history; it is most attractive as an amplification of -history; but it is quite false as an outline of history. The one thing -that seems to me quite wrong about it is the outline; the sort of -outline that can really be a single line, like that which makes all the -difference between a caricature of the profile of Mr. Winston Churchill -and of Sir Alfred Mond. In simple and homely language, I mean the things -that stick out; the things that make the simplicity of a silhouette. I -think the proportions are wrong; the proportions of what is certain as -compared with what is uncertain, of what played a great part as compared -with what played a smaller part, of what is ordinary and what is -extraordinary, of what really lies level with an average and what stands -out as an exception.</p> - -<p>I do not say it as a small criticism of a great writer,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_303" id="page_303">{303}</a></span> and I have no -reason to do so; for in my own much smaller task I feel I have failed in -very much the same way. I am very doubtful whether I have conveyed to -the reader the main point I meant about the proportions of history, and -why I have dwelt so much more on some things than others. I doubt -whether I have clearly fulfilled the plan that I set out in the -introductory chapter; and for that reason I add these lines as a sort of -summary in a concluding chapter. I do believe that the things on which I -have insisted are more essential to an outline of history than the -things which I have subordinated or dismissed. I do not believe that the -past is most truly pictured as a thing in which humanity merely fades -away into nature, or civilisation merely fades away into barbarism, or -religion fades away into mythology, or our own religion fades away into -the religions of the world. In short I do not believe that the best way -to produce an outline of history is to rub out the lines. I believe -that, of the two, it would be far nearer the truth to tell the tale very -simply, like a primitive myth about a man who made the sun and stars or -a god who entered the body of a sacred monkey. I will therefore sum up -all that has gone before in what seems to me a realistic and reasonably -proportioned statement; the short story of mankind.</p> - -<p>In the land lit by that neighbouring star, whose blaze is the broad -daylight, there are many and very various things, motionless and moving. -There moves among them a race that is in its relation to the others a -race of gods. The fact is not lessened but emphasised because it can -behave like a race of demons. Its distinction is not an individual -illusion, like one bird pluming itself on its own plumes; it is a solid -and a many-sided thing. It is demonstrated in the very speculations that -have led to its being denied. That men, the gods of this lower world, -are linked with it in various ways is true; but it is another aspect of -the same truth. That they grow as the grass grows<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_304" id="page_304">{304}</a></span> and walk as the -beasts walk is a secondary necessity that sharpens the primary -distinction. It is like saying that a magician must after all have the -appearance of a man; or that even the fairies could not dance without -feet. It has lately been the fashion to focus the mind entirely on these -mild and subordinate resemblances and to forget the main fact -altogether. It is customary to insist that man resembles the other -creatures. Yes; and that very resemblance he alone can see. The fish -does not trace the fish-bone pattern in the fowls of the air; or the -elephant and the emu compare skeletons. Even in the sense in which man -is at one with the universe it is an utterly lonely universality. The -very sense that he is united with all things is enough to sunder him -from all.</p> - -<p>Looking around him by this unique light, as lonely as the literal flame -that he alone has kindled, this demigod or demon of the visible world -makes that world visible. He sees around him a world of a certain style -or type. It seems to proceed by certain rules or at least repetitions. -He sees a green architecture that builds itself without visible hands; -but which builds itself into a very exact plan or pattern, like a design -already drawn in the air by an invisible finger. It is not, as is now -vaguely suggested, a vague thing. It is not a growth or a groping of -blind life. Each seeks an end; a glorious and radiant end, even for -every daisy or dandelion we see in looking across the level of a common -field. In the very shape of things there is more than green growth; -there is the finality of the flower. It is a world of crowns. This -impression, whether or no it be an illusion, has so profoundly -influenced this race of thinkers and masters of the material world, that -the vast majority have been moved to take a certain view of that world. -They have concluded, rightly or wrongly, that the world had a plan as -the tree seemed to have a plan; and an end and crown like the flower. -But so long as the race of thinkers was able<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_305" id="page_305">{305}</a></span> to think, it was obvious -that the admission of this idea of a plan brought with it another -thought more thrilling and even terrible. There was some one else, some -strange and unseen being, who had designed these things, if indeed they -were designed. There was a stranger who was also a friend; a mysterious -benefactor who had been before them and built up the woods and hills for -their coming, and had kindled the sunrise against their rising, as a -servant kindles a fire. Now this idea of a mind that gives a meaning to -the universe has received more and more confirmation within the minds of -men, by meditations and experiences much more subtle and searching than -any such argument about the external plan of the world. But I am -concerned here with keeping the story in its most simple and even -concrete terms; and it is enough to say here that most men, including -the wisest men, have come to the conclusion that the world has such a -final purpose and therefore such a first cause. But most men in some -sense separated themselves from the wisest men, when it came to the -treatment of that idea. There came into existence two ways of treating -that idea; which between them make up most of the religious history of -the world.</p> - -<p>The majority, like the minority, had this strong sense of a second -meaning in things; of a strange master who knew the secret of the world. -But the majority, the mob or mass of men, naturally tended to treat it -rather in the spirit of gossip. The gossip, like all gossip, contained a -great deal of truth and falsehood. The world began to tell itself tales -about the unknown being or his sons or servants or messengers. Some of -the tales may truly be called old wives’ tales; as professing only to be -very remote memories of the morning of the world; myths about the baby -moon or the half-baked mountains. Some of them might more truly be -called travellers’ tales; as being curious but contemporary tales -brought from certain borderlands of experience; such as miraculous<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_306" id="page_306">{306}</a></span> -cures or those that bring whispers of what has happened to the dead. -Many of them are probably true tales; enough of them are probably true -to keep a person of real common sense more or less conscious that there -really is something rather marvellous behind the cosmic curtain. But in -a sense it is only going by appearances; even if the appearances are -called apparitions. It is a matter of appearances—and disappearances. -At the most these gods are ghosts; that is, they are glimpses. For most -of us they are rather gossip about glimpses. And for the rest, the whole -world is full of rumours, most of which are almost avowedly romances. -The great majority of the tales about gods and ghosts and the invisible -king are told, if not for the sake of the tale, at least for the sake of -the topic. They are evidence of the eternal interest of the theme; they -are not evidence of anything else, and they are not meant to be. They -are mythology, or the poetry that is not bound in books—or bound in any -other way.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the minority, the sages or thinkers, had withdrawn apart and -had taken up an equally congenial trade. They were drawing up plans of -the world; of the world which all believed to have a plan. They were -trying to set forth the plan seriously and to scale. They were setting -their minds directly to the mind that had made the mysterious world; -considering what sort of a mind it might be and what its ultimate -purpose might be. Some of them made that mind much more impersonal than -mankind has generally made it; some simplified it almost to a blank; a -few, a very few, doubted it altogether. One or two of the more morbid -fancied that it might be evil and an enemy; just one or two of the more -degraded in the other class worshipped demons instead of gods. But most -of these theorists were theists: and they not only saw a moral plan in -nature, but they generally laid down a moral plan for humanity. Most of -them were good men who did good work: and they were remembered and -rever<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_307" id="page_307">{307}</a></span>enced in various ways. They were scribes; and their scriptures -became more or less holy scriptures. They were law-givers; and their -tradition became not only legal but ceremonial. We may say that they -received divine honours, in the sense in which kings and great captains -in certain countries often received divine honours. In a word, wherever -the other popular spirit, the spirit of legend and gossip, could come -into play, it surrounded them with the more mystical atmosphere of the -myths. Popular poetry turned the sages into saints. But that was all it -did. They remained themselves; men never really forgot that they were -men, only made into gods in the sense that they were made into heroes. -Divine Plato, like Divus Caesar, was a title and not a dogma. In Asia, -where the atmosphere was more mythological, the man was made to look -more like a myth, but he remained a man. He remained a man of a certain -special class or school of men, receiving and deserving great honour -from mankind. It is the order or school of the philosophers; the men who -have set themselves seriously to trace the order across any apparent -chaos in the vision of life. Instead of living on imaginative rumours -and remote traditions and the tail-end of exceptional experiences about -the mind and meaning behind the world, they have tried in a sense to -project the primary purpose of that mind <i>a priori</i>. They have tried to -put on paper a possible plan of the world; almost as if the world were -not yet made.</p> - -<p>Right in the middle of all these things stands up an enormous exception. -It is quite unlike anything else. It is a thing final like the trump of -doom, though it is also a piece of good news; or news that seems too -good to be true. It is nothing less than the loud assertion that this -mysterious maker of the world has visited his world in person. It -declares that really and even recently, or right in the middle of -historic times, there did walk into the world this original invisible -being; about whom the thinkers make theories and the mythologists hand -down myths;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_308" id="page_308">{308}</a></span> the Man Who Made the World. That such a higher personality -exists behind all things had indeed always been implied by all the best -thinkers, as well as by all the most beautiful legends. But nothing of -this sort had ever been implied in any of them. It is simply false to -say that the other sages and heroes had claimed to be that mysterious -master and maker, of whom the world had dreamed and disputed. Not one of -them had ever claimed to be anything of the sort. Not one of their sects -or schools had ever claimed that they had claimed to be anything of the -sort. The most that any religious prophet had said was that he was the -true servant of such a being. The most that any visionary had ever said -was that men might catch glimpses of the glory of that spiritual being; -or much more often of lesser spiritual beings. The most that any -primitive myth had ever suggested was that the Creator was present at -the Creation. But that the Creator was present at scenes a little -subsequent to the supper-parties of Horace, and talked with -tax-collectors and government officials in the detailed daily life of -the Roman Empire, and that this fact continued to be firmly asserted by -the whole of that great civilisation for more than a thousand -years—that is something utterly unlike anything else in nature. It is -the one great startling statement that man has made since he spoke his -first articulate word, instead of barking like a dog. Its unique -character can be used as an argument against it as well as for it. It -would be easy to concentrate on it as a case of isolated insanity; but -it makes nothing but dust and nonsense of comparative religion.</p> - -<p>It came on the world with a wind and rush of running messengers -proclaiming that apocalyptic portent; and it is not unduly fanciful to -say they are running still. What puzzles the world, and its wise -philosophers and fanciful pagan poets, about the priests and people of -the Catholic Church is that they still behave as if they were -messengers. A messenger does not dream about what his message might be,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_309" id="page_309">{309}</a></span> -or argue about what it probably would be; he delivers it as it is. It is -not a theory or a fancy but a fact. It is not relevant to this -intentionally rudimentary outline to prove in detail that it is a fact; -but merely to point out that these messengers do deal with it as men -deal with a fact. All that is condemned in Catholic tradition, -authority, and dogmatism and the refusal to retract and modify, are but -the natural human attributes of a man with a message relating to a fact. -I desire to avoid in this last summary all the controversial -complexities that may once more cloud the simple lines of that strange -story; which I have already called, in words that are much too weak, the -strangest story in the world. I desire merely to mark those main lines -and specially to mark where the great line is really to be drawn. The -religion of the world, in its right proportions, is not divided into -fine shades of mysticism or more or less rational forms of mythology. It -is divided by the line between the men who are bringing that message and -the men who have not yet heard it, or cannot yet believe it.</p> - -<p>But when we translate the terms of that strange tale back into the more -concrete and complicated terminology of our time, we find it covered by -names and memories of which the very familiarity is a falsification. For -instance, when we say that a country contains so many Moslems, we really -mean that it contains so many monotheists; and we really mean, by that, -that it contains so many men; men with the old average assumption of -men—that the invisible ruler remains invisible. They hold it along with -the customs of a certain culture and under the simpler laws of a certain -law-giver; but so they would if their law-giver were Lycurgus or Solon. -They testify to something which is a necessary and noble truth; but was -never a new truth. Their creed is not a new colour; it is the neutral -and normal tint that is the background of the many-coloured life of man. -Mahomet did not, like the Magi, find a new star; he saw through his own -particular<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_310" id="page_310">{310}</a></span> window a glimpse of the great grey field of the ancient -starlight. So when we say that the country contains so many Confucians -or Buddhists, we mean that it contains so many Pagans whose prophets -have given them another and rather vaguer version of the invisible -power; making it not only invisible but almost impersonal. When we say -that they also have temples and idols and priests and periodical -festivals, we simply mean that this sort of heathen is enough of a human -being to admit the popular element of pomp and pictures and feasts and -fairy-tales. We only mean that Pagans have more sense than Puritans. But -what the gods are supposed to <i>be</i>, what the priests are commissioned to -<i>say</i>, is not a sensational secret like what those running messengers of -the Gospel had to say. Nobody else except those messengers has any -Gospel; nobody else has any good news; for the simple reason that nobody -else has any news.</p> - -<p>Those runners gather impetus as they run. Ages afterwards they still -speak as if something had just happened. They have not lost the speed -and momentum of messengers; they have hardly lost, as it were, the wild -eyes of witnesses. In the Catholic Church, which is the cohort of the -message, there are still those headlong acts of holiness that speak of -something rapid and recent; a self-sacrifice that startles the world -like a suicide. But it is not a suicide; it is not pessimistic; it is -still as optimistic as St. Francis of the flowers and birds. It is newer -in spirit than the newest schools of thought; and it is almost certainly -on the eve of new triumphs. For these men serve a mother who seems to -grow more beautiful as new generations rise up and call her blessed. We -might sometimes fancy that the Church grows younger as the world grows -old.</p> - -<p>For this is the last proof of the miracle; that something so -supernatural should have become so natural. I mean that anything so -unique when seen from the outside should only seem universal when seen -from the inside. I have not minimised the scale<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_311" id="page_311">{311}</a></span> of the miracle, as some -of our milder theologians think it wise to do. Rather have I -deliberately dwelt on that incredible interruption, as a blow that broke -the very backbone of history. I have great sympathy with the -monotheists, the Moslems, or the Jews, to whom it seems a blasphemy; a -blasphemy that might shake the world. But it did not shake the world; it -steadied the world. That fact, the more we consider it, will seem more -solid and more strange. I think it a piece of plain justice to all the -unbelievers to insist upon the audacity of the act of faith that is -demanded of them. I willingly and warmly agree that it is, in itself, a -suggestion at which we might expect even the brain of the believer to -reel, when he realised his own belief. But the brain of the believer -does not reel; it is the brains of the unbelievers that reel. We can see -their brains reeling on every side and into every extravagance of ethics -and psychology; into pessimism and the denial of life; into pragmatism -and the denial of logic; seeking their omens in nightmares and their -canons in contradictions; shrieking for fear at the far-off sight of -things beyond good and evil, or whispering of strange stars where two -and two make five. Meanwhile this solitary thing that seems at first so -outrageous in outline remains solid and sane in substance. It remains -the moderator of all these manias; rescuing reason from the Pragmatists -exactly as it rescued laughter from the Puritans. I repeat that I have -deliberately emphasised its intrinsically defiant and dogmatic -character. The mystery is how anything so startling should have remained -defiant and dogmatic and yet become perfectly normal and natural. I have -admitted freely that, considering the incident in itself, a man who says -he is God may be classed with a man who says he is glass. But the man -who says he is glass is not a glazier making windows for all the world. -He does not remain for after ages as a shining and crystalline figure, -in whose light everything is as clear as crystal.</p> - -<p>But this madness has remained sane. The madness<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_312" id="page_312">{312}</a></span> has remained sane when -everything else went mad. The madhouse has been a house to which, age -after age, men are continually coming back as to a home. That is the -riddle that remains; that anything so abrupt and abnormal should still -be found a habitable and hospitable thing. I care not if the sceptic -says it is a tall story; I cannot see how so toppling a tower could -stand so long without foundation. Still less can I see how it could -become, as it has become, the home of man. Had it merely appeared and -disappeared, it might possibly have been remembered or explained as the -last leap of the rage of illusion, the ultimate myth of the ultimate -mood, in which the mind struck the sky and broke. But the mind did not -break. It is the one mind that remains unbroken in the break-up of the -world. If it were an error, it seems as if the error could hardly have -lasted a day. If it were a mere ecstasy, it would seem that such an -ecstasy could not endure for an hour. It has endured for nearly two -thousand years; and the world within it has been more lucid, more -levelheaded, more reasonable in its hopes, more healthy in its -instincts, more humorous and cheerful in the face of fate and death, -than all the world outside. For it was the soul of Christendom that came -forth from the incredible Christ; and the soul of it was common sense. -Though we dared not look on His face we could look on His fruits; and by -His fruits we should know Him. The fruits are solid and the fruitfulness -is much more than a metaphor; and nowhere in this sad world are boys -happier in apple-trees, or men in more equal chorus singing as they -tread the vine, than under the fixed flash of this instant and -intolerant enlightenment; the lightning made eternal as the light.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_313" id="page_313">{313}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="APPENDIX_I" id="APPENDIX_I"></a>APPENDIX I<br /><br /> -ON PREHISTORIC MAN</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">In</span> a sense it would be better if history were more superficial. What is -wanted is a reminder of the things that are seen so quickly that they -are forgotten almost as quickly. The one moral of this book, in a manner -of speaking, is that first thoughts are best. So a flash might reveal a -landscape; with the Eiffel Tower or the Matterhorn standing up in it as -they would never stand up again in the light of common day. I ended the -book with an image of everlasting lightning; in a very different sense, -alas, this little flash has lasted only too long. But the method has -also certain practical disadvantages upon which I think it well to add -these two notes. It may seem to simplify too much and to ignore out of -ignorance. I feel this especially in the passage about the prehistoric -pictures; which is not concerned with all that the learned may learn -from prehistoric pictures, but with the single point of what anybody -could learn from there being any prehistoric pictures at all. I am -conscious that this attempt to express it in terms of innocence may -exaggerate even my own ignorance. Without any pretence of scientific -research, I should be sorry to have it thought that I knew no more than -I had occasion to say in that passage of the stages into which primitive -humanity has been divided. I am aware, of course, that the story is -elaborately stratified; and that there were many such stages before the -Cro-Magnan or any peoples with whom we associate such pictures. Indeed -recent studies about the Neanderthal and other races rather tend to -repeat the moral that is here most relevant. The notion, noted in these -pages, of something necessarily slow or late in the development of -religion will gain little indeed from these later revelations about the -precursors of the reindeer picture-maker. The learned appear to hold -that, whether the reindeer picture could be religious or not, the people -that lived before it were religious already. Men were already burying -their dead with the care that is the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_314" id="page_314">{314}</a></span> significant sign of mystery and -hope. This obviously brings us back to the same argument; an argument -that is not approached by any measurement of the earlier man’s skull. It -is little use to compare the head of the man with the head of the -monkey, if it certainly has never come into the head of the monkey to -bury another monkey with nuts in his grave to help him towards a -heavenly monkey-house. Talking of skulls, we all know the story of the -finding of a Cro-Magnan skull that is much larger and finer than a -modern skull. It is a very funny story; because an eminent evolutionist, -awakening to a somewhat belated caution, protested against anything -being inferred from one specimen. It is the duty of a solitary skull to -prove that our fathers were our inferiors. Any solitary skull presuming -to prove that they were superior is felt to be suffering from swelled -head.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_315" id="page_315">{315}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="APPENDIX_II" id="APPENDIX_II"></a>APPENDIX II<br /><br /> -ON AUTHORITY AND ACCURACY</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">In</span> this book, which is merely meant as a popular criticism of popular -fallacies, often indeed of very vulgar errors, I feel that I have -sometimes given an impression of scoffing at serious scientific work. It -was, however, the very reverse of my intention. I am not arguing with -the scientist who explains the elephant, but only with the sophist who -explains it away. And as a matter of fact the sophist plays to the -gallery, as he did in ancient Greece. He appeals to the ignorant, -especially when he appeals to the learned. But I never meant my own -criticism to be an impertinence to the truly learned. We all owe an -infinite debt to the researches, especially the recent researches, of -single-minded students in these matters; and I have only professed to -pick up things here and there from them. I have not loaded my abstract -argument with quotations and references, which only make a man look more -learned than he is; but in some cases I find that my own loose fashion -of allusion is rather misleading about my own meaning. The passage about -Chaucer and the Child Martyr is badly expressed; I only mean that the -English poet probably had in mind the English saint; of whose story he -gives a sort of foreign version. In the same way two statements in the -chapter on Mythology follow each other in such a way that it may seem to -be suggested that the second story about Monotheism refers to the -Southern Seas. I may explain that Atahocan belongs not to Australasian -but to American savages. So in the chapter called ‘The Antiquity of -Civilisation,’ which I feel to be the most unsatisfactory, I have given -my own impression of the meaning of the development of Egyptian monarchy -too much, perhaps, as if it were identical with the facts on which it -was founded, as given in works like those of Professor J. L. Myres. But -the confusion was not intentional; still less was there any intention to -imply, in the remainder of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_316" id="page_316">{316}</a></span> the chapter, that the anthropological -speculations about races are less valuable than they undoubtedly are. My -criticism is strictly relative; I may say that the Pyramids are plainer -than the tracks of the desert, without denying that wiser men than I may -see tracks in what is to me the trackless sand.</p> - -<hr class="full" /> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EVERLASTING MAN ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. -</div> - -<div style='margin:0.83em 0; font-size:1.1em; text-align:center'>START: FULL LICENSE<br /> -<span style='font-size:smaller'>THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE<br /> -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK</span> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person -or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the -Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when -you share it without charge with others. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work -on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the -phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: -</div> - -<blockquote> - <div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most - other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions - whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms - of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online - at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you - are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws - of the country where you are located before using this eBook. - </div> -</blockquote> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg™ License. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format -other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain -Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -provided that: -</div> - -<div style='margin-left:0.7em;'> - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation.” - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ - works. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. - </div> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right -of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread -public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state -visit <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/donate/">www.gutenberg.org/donate</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. -</div> - -</div> - -</body> -</html> diff --git a/old/65688-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/65688-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 086728f..0000000 --- a/old/65688-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null |
