Bygone Beliefs

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BYGONE BELIEFS
BEING A SERIES OF
EXCURSIONS IN THE BYWAYS
OF THOUGHT

BY
H. STANLEY REDGROVE

_Alle Erfahrung ist Magic, und nur magisch erklarbar_.
NOVALIS (Friedrich von Hardenberg).

Everything possible to be believ'd is an image of truth.
WILLIAM BLAKE.

TO
MY WIFE

PREFACE

THESE Excursions in the Byways of Thought were undertaken at
different times and on different occasions; consequently, the reader
may be able to detect in them inequalities of treatment.
He may feel that I have lingered too long in some byways and hurried
too rapidly through others, taking, as it were, but a general
view of the road in the latter case, whilst examining everything
that could be seen in the former with, perhaps, undue care.
As a matter of fact, how ever, all these excursions have been
undertaken with one and the same object in view, that, namely,
of understanding aright and appreciating at their true worth some
of the more curious byways along which human thought has travelled.
It is easy for the superficial thinker to dismiss much of the thought
of the past (and, indeed, of the present) as _mere_ superstition,
not worth the trouble of investigation: but it is not scientific.
There is a reason for every belief, even the most fantastic,
and it should be our object to discover this reason. How far,
if at all, the reason in any case justifies us in holding a similar
belief is, of course, another question. Some of the beliefs I
have dealt with I have treated at greater length than others,
because it seems to me that the truths of which they are the images--
vague and distorted in many cases though they be--are truths which we
have either forgotten nowadays, or are in danger of forgetting.
We moderns may, indeed, learn something from the thought of the past,
even in its most fantastic aspects. In one excursion at least,
namely, the essay on "The Cambridge Platonists," I have ventured
to deal with a higher phase--perhaps I should say the highest phase--
of the thought of a bygone age, to which the modern world may
be completely debtor.

"Some Characteristics of Mediaeval Thought," and the two essays on Alchemy,
have appeared in _The Journal of the Alchemical Society_. In others
I have utilised material I have contributed to _The Occult Review_,
to the editor of which journal my thanks are due for permission so to do.
I have also to express my gratitude to the Rev. A. H. COLLINS,
and others to be referred to in due course, for permission here
to reproduce illustrations of which they are the copyright holders.
I have further to offer my hearty thanks to Mr B. R. ROWBOTTOM
and my wife for valuable assistance in reading the proofs.
H. S. R.

BLETCHLEY, BUCKS, _December_ 1919.

CONTENTS PAGE
PREFACE . . . . . . . .ix
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS . . . . . .xiii
1. SOME CHARACTERISTICS OF MEDIAEVAL THOUGHT . . . 1
2. PYTHAGORAS AND HIS PHILOSOPHY . . . . . . . . . 8
3. MEDICINE AND MAGIC. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25
4. SUPERSTITIONS CONCERNING BIRDS . . . . . . . . 34
5. THE POWDER OF SYMPATHY: A CURIOUS MEDICAL
SUPERSTITION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47 6.
THE BELIEF IN TALISMANS . . . . 57 7. CEREMONIAL MAGIC IN
THEORY AND PRACTICE .. 87
8. ARCHITECTURAL SYMBOLISM . . . . . . . . 111
9. THE QUEST OF THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE.. . . . . 121
10. THE PHALLIC ELEMENT IN ALCHEMICAL DOCTRINE 149 11.
ROGER BACON: AN APPRECIATION . . .183 12.
THE CAMBRIDGE PLATONISTS . . . . 193

{the LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS are incomplete and raw OCR output!}

PAGE 46. Symbolic Alchemical Design from Mutus Liber (1677) . PLATE:
25, to face p. 176 47. Symbolic Alchemical Design

illustrating the Work of

Woman, from MAIER s Alalanta Fugiens . . . ,, 26, ,, 178 48.
Symbolic Alchemica Design, Hermaphrodite,fromMAIER's Atalanta Fugiens
. . ,, 27, ,, 180 49. ROGER BACON presenting a Book to a King,
from a Fifteenth~entury Miniature in the Bodleian Library, Oxford . . . .
,, 28, ,, I84 50. ROGER BACON, from a Portrait in Knole Castle . . .
,, 29, ,, 188 5I. BENJAMIN WHICHCOTE, from an engraved Portrait
by ROBERT WHITE . . ,, 30, ,, I94 52. HENRY MoRE, from a Portrait
by DAVID LOGGAN, engraved ad vivum, 1679 . . . ,, 3I, ,, I98 53.
RALPH CUDWORTH, from an engraved Portrait by VERTUE, after LOGGAN,
forming the Frontispiece to CUDWORTH s Treatise Concerning Morality (I73I) ù
ù ù ù ,, 32, ,, 3~

BYGONE BELIEFS

I

SOME CHARACTERISTICS OF MEDAEVAL THOUGHT

IN the earliest days of his upward evolution man was satisfied
with a very crude explanation of natural phenomena--that to which
the name "animism" has been given. In this stage of mental
development all the various forces of Nature are personified:
the rushing torrent, the devastating fire, the wind rustling
the forest leaves--in the mind of the animistic savage all
these are personalities, spirits, like himself, but animated
by motives more or less antagonistic to him.

I suppose that no possible exception could be taken to the
statement that modern science renders animism impossible.
But let us inquire in exactly what sense this is true.
It is not true that science robs natural phenomena of their
spiritual significance. The mistake is often made of supposing
that science explains, or endeavours to explain, phenomena.
But that is the business of philosophy. The task science attempts
is the simpler one of the correlation of natural phenomena, and in
this effort leaves the ultimate problems of metaphysics untouched.
A universe, however, whose phenomena are not only capable of some
degree of correlation, but present the extraordinary degree of
harmony and unity which science makes manifest in Nature, cannot be,
as in animism, the product of a vast number of inco-ordinated
and antagonistic wills, but must either be the product of one Will,
or not the product of will at all.

The latter alternative means that the Cosmos is inexplicable,
which not only man's growing experience, but the fact that man
and the universe form essentially a unity, forbid us to believe.
The term "anthropomorphic" is too easily applied to philosophical
systems, as if it constituted a criticism of their validity.
For if it be true, as all must admit, that the unknown can only
be explained in terms of the known, then the universe must either
be explained in terms of man--_i.e_. in terms of will or desire--
or remain incomprehensible. That is to say, a philosophy must
either be anthropomorphic, or no philosophy at all.

Thus a metaphysical scrutiny of the results of modern science
leads us to a belief in God. But man felt the need of unity,
and crude animism, though a step in the right direction, failed to
satisfy his thought, long before the days of modern science.
The spirits of animism, however, were not discarded,
but were modified, co-ordinated, and worked into a system
as servants of the Most High. Polytheism may mark a stage in
this process; or, perhaps, it was a result of mental degeneracy.

What I may term systematised as distinguished from crude animism
persisted throughout the Middle Ages. The work of systematisation
had already been accomplished, to a large extent, by the Neo-Platonists
and whoever were responsible for the Kabala. It is true that
these main sources of magical or animistic philosophy remained
hidden during the greater part of the Middle Ages; but at about
their close the youthful and enthusiastic CORNELIUS AGRIPPA
(1486-1535)[1] slaked his thirst thereat and produced his own attempt
at the systematisation of magical belief in the famous _Three Books
of Occult Philosophy_. But the waters of magical philosophy
reached the mediaeval mind through various devious channels,
traditional on the one hand and literary on the other.
And of the latter, the works of pseudo-DIONYSIUS,[2] whose immense
influence upon mediaeval thought has sometimes been neglected,
must certainly be noted.

[1] The story of his life has been admirably told by HENRY MORLEY
(2 vols., 1856).

[2] These writings were first heard of in the early part of
the sixth century, and were probably the work of a Syrian monk
of that date, who fathered them on to DIONYSIUS the Areopagite
as a pious fraud. See Dean INGE'S _Christian Mysticism_
(1899), pp. 104--122, and VAUGHAN'S _Hours with the Mystics_
(7th ed., 1895), vol. i. pp. 111-124. The books have been
translated into English by the Rev. JOHN PARKER (2 vols.
1897-1899), who believes in the genuineness of their alleged authorship.

The most obvious example of a mediaeval animistic belief is
that in "elementals"--the spirits which personify the primordial
forces of Nature, and are symbolised by the four elements,
immanent in which they were supposed to exist, and through
which they were held to manifest their powers. And astrology,
it must be remembered, is essentially a systematised animism.
The stars, to the ancients, were not material bodies like the earth,
but spiritual beings. PLATO (427-347 B.C.) speaks of them as
"gods". Mediaeval thought did not regard them in quite this way.
But for those who believed in astrology, and few, I think, did not,
the stars were still symbols of spiritual forces operative on man.
Evidences of the wide extent of astrological belief in those days
are abundant, many instances of which we shall doubtless encounter
in our excursions.

It has been said that the theological and philosophical
atmosphere of the Middle Ages was "scholastic," not mystical.
No doubt "mysticism," as a mode of life aiming at the realisation
of the presence of God, is as distinct from scholasticism
as empiricism is from rationalism, or "tough-minded" philosophy
(to use JAMES' happy phrase) is from "tender-minded". But
no philosophy can be absolutely and purely deductive.
It must start from certain empirically determined facts.
A man might be an extreme empiricist in religion (_i.e_. a mystic),
and yet might attempt to deduce all other forms of knowledge
from the results of his religious experiences, never caring
to gather experience in any other realm. Hence the breach between
mysticism and scholasticism is not really so wide as may appear
at first sight. Indeed, scholasticism officially recognised
three branches of theology, of which the MYSTICAL was one.
I think that mysticism and scholasticism both had a profound
influence on the mediaeval mind, sometimes acting as opposing
forces, sometimes operating harmoniously with one another.
As Professor WINDELBAND puts it: "We no longer onesidedly
characterise the philosophy of the middle ages as scholasticism,
but rather place mysticism beside it as of equal rank,
and even as being the more fruitful and promising movement."[1]

[1] Professor WILHELM WINDELBAND, Ph.D.: "Present-Day Mysticism,"
_The Quest_, vol. iv. (1913), P. 205.

Alchemy, with its four Aristotelian or scholastic elements
and its three mystical principles--sulphur, mercury, salt,--
must be cited as the outstanding product of the combined influence
of mysticism and scholasticism: of mysticism, which postulated
the unity of the Cosmos, and hence taught that everything natural
is the expressive image and type of some supernatural reality;
of scholasticism, which taught men to rely upon deduction and to
restrict experimentation to the smallest possible limits.

The mind naturally proceeds from the known, or from what is supposed
to be known, to the unknown. Indeed, as I have already indicated,
it must so proceed if truth is to be gained. Now what did the men
of the Middle Ages regard as falling into the category of the known?
Why, surely, the truths of revealed religion, whether accepted
upon authority or upon the evidence of their own experience.
The realm of spiritual and moral reality: there, they felt,
they were on firm ground. Nature was a realm unknown;
but they had analogy to guide, or, rather, misguide them.
Nevertheless if, as we know, it misguided, this was not,
I think, because the mystical doctrine of the correspondence
between the spiritual and the natural is unsound,
but because these ancient seekers into Nature's secrets knew
so little, and so frequently misapplied what they did know.
So alchemical philosophy arose and became systematised,
with its wonderful endeavour to perfect the base metals by
the Philosopher's Stone--the concentrated Essence of Nature,--
as man's soul is perfected through the life-giving power
of JESUS CHRIST.

I want, in conclusion to these brief introductory remarks, to say
a few words concerning phallicism in connection with my topic.
For some "tender-minded"[1] and, to my thought, obscure,
reason the subject is tabooed. Even the British Museum
does not include works on phallicism in its catalogue,
and special permission has to be obtained to consult them.
Yet the subject is of vast importance as concerns the origin
and development of religion and philosophy, and the extent
of phallic worship may be gathered from the widespread occurrence
of obelisks and similar objects amongst ancient relics.
Our own maypole dances may be instanced as one survival
of the ancient worship of the male generative principle.

[1] I here use the term with the extended meaning Mr H. G. WELLS
has given to it. See _The New Machiavelli_.

What could be more easy to understand than that, when man first
questioned as to the creation of the earth, he should suppose it
to have been generated by some process analogous to that which he saw
held in the case of man? How else could he account for its origin,
if knowledge must proceed from the known to the unknown?
No one questions at all that the worship of the human generative
organs as symbols of the dual generative principle of Nature
degenerated into orgies of the most frightful character,
but the view of Nature which thus degenerated is not, I think,
an altogether unsound one, and very interesting remnants of it
are to be found in mediaeval philosophy.

These remnants are very marked in alchemy. The metals,
as I have suggested, are there regarded as types of man;
hence they are produced from seed, through the combination
of male and female principles--mercury and sulphur,
which on the spiritual plane are intelligence and love.
The same is true of that Stone which is perfect Man. As BERNARD
of TREVISAN (1406-1490) wrote in the fifteenth century:
"This Stone then is compounded of a Body and Spirit, or of a volatile
and fixed Substance, and that is therefore done, because nothing
in the World can be generated and brought to light without
these two Substances, to wit, a Male and Female: From whence
it appeareth, that although these two Substances are not of
one and the same species, yet one Stone cloth thence arise,
and although they appear and are said to be two Substances,
yet in truth it is but one, to wit, _Argent-vive_."[1] No
doubt this sounds fantastic; but with all their seeming
intellectual follies these old thinkers were no fools.
The fact of sex is the most fundamental fact of the universe,
and is a spiritual and physical as well as a physiological fact.
I shall deal with the subject as concerns the speculations
of the alchemists in some detail in a later excursion.

[1] BERNARD, Earl of TREVISAN: _A Treatise of the
Philosopher's Stone_, 1683. (See _Collectanea Chymica: A Collection
of Ten Several Treatises in Chemistry_, 1684, p. 91.)

II

PYTHAGORAS AND HIS PHILOSOPHY

IT is a matter for enduring regret that so little is known to us
concerning PYTHAGORAS. What little we do know serves but to enhance
for us the interest of the man and his philosophy, to make him,
in many ways, the most attractive of Greek thinkers; and, basing our
estimate on the extent of his influence on the thought of succeeding ages,
we recognise in him one of the world's master-minds.

PYTHAGORAS was born about 582 B.C. at Samos, one of the Grecian isles.
In his youth he came in contact with THALES--the Father of Geometry,
as he is well called,--and though he did not become a member of THALES'
school, his contact with the latter no doubt helped to turn his mind
towards the study of geometry. This interest found the right ground
for its development in Egypt, which he visited when still young.
Egypt is generally regarded as the birthplace of geometry,
the subject having, it is supposed, been forced on the minds
of the Egyptians by the necessity of fixing the boundaries of lands
against the annual overflowing of the Nile. But the Egyptians
were what is called an essentially practical people, and their
geometrical knowledge did not extend beyond a few empirical rules
useful for fixing these boundaries and in constructing their temples.
Striking evidence of this fact is supplied by the AHMES papyrus,
compiled some little time before 1700 B.C. from an older work dating
from about 3400 B.C.,[1] a papyrus which almost certainly represents
the highest mathematical knowledge reached by the Egyptians of that day.
Geometry is treated very superficially and as of subsidiary interest
to arithmetic; there is no ordered series of reasoned geometrical
propositions given--nothing, indeed, beyond isolated rules,
and of these some are wanting in accuracy.

[1] See AUGUST EISENLOHR: _Ein mathematisches Handbuch der
alten Aegypter_ (1877); J. Gow: _A Short History of Greek Mathematics_
(1884); and V. E. JOHNSON: _Egyptian Science from the Monuments
and Ancient Books_ (1891).

One geometrical fact known to the Egyptians was that if a triangle
be constructed having its sides 3, 4, and 5 units long respectively,
then the angle opposite the longest side is exactly a right angle; and the
Egyptian builders used this rule for constructing walls perpendicular
to each other, employing a cord graduated in the required manner.
The Greek mind was not, however, satisfied with the bald statement
of mere facts--it cared little for practical applications,
but sought above all for the underlying REASON of everything.
Nowadays we are beginning to realise that the results achieved by this
type of mind, the general laws of Nature's behaviour formulated
by its endeavours, are frequently of immense practical importance--
of far more importance than the mere rules-of-thumb beyond which
so-called practical minds never advance. The classic example
of the utility of seemingly useless knowledge is afforded by
Sir WILLIAM HAMILTON'S discovery, or, rather, invention of Quarternions,
but no better example of the utilitarian triumph of the theoretical
over the so-called practical mind can be adduced than that afforded
by PYTHAGORAS. Given this rule for constructing a right angle,
about whose reason the Egyptian who used it never bothered himself,
and the mind of PYTHAGORAS, searching for its full significance,
made that gigantic geometrical discovery which is to this day known
as the Theorem of PYTHAGORAS--the law that in every right-angled
triangle the square on the side opposite the right angle is equal
in area to the sum of the squares on the other two sides.[1]
The importance of this discovery can hardly be overestimated.
It is of fundamental importance in most branches of geometry,
and the basis of the whole of trigonometry--the special branch
of geometry that deals with the practical mensuration of triangles.
EUCLID devoted the whole of the first book of his _Elements of
Geometry_ to establishing the truth of this theorem; how PYTHAGORAS
demonstrated it we unfortunately do not know.

[1] Fig. 3 affords an interesting practical demonstration of
the truth of this theorem. If the reader will copy this figure,
cut out the squares on the two shorter sides of the triangle
and divide them along the lines AD, BE, EF, he will find
that the five pieces so obtained can be made exactly to fit
the square on the longest side as shown by the dotted lines.
The size and shape of the triangle ABC, so long as it has
a right angle at C, is immaterial. The lines AD, BE are
obtained by continuing the sides of the square on the side AB,
_i.e_. the side opposite the right angle, and EF is drawn
at right angles to BE.

After absorbing what knowledge was to be gained in Egypt, PYTHAGORAS journeyed
to Babylon, where he probably came into contact with even greater traditions
and more potent influences and sources of knowledge than in Egypt, for there
is reason for believing that the ancient Chaldeans were the builders of
the Pyramids and in many ways the intellectual superiors of the Egyptians.

At last, after having travelled still further East, probably as far
as India, PYTHAGORAS returned to his birthplace to teach the men of his
native land the knowledge he had gained. But CROESUS was tyrant over Samos,
and so oppressive was his rule that none had leisure in which to learn.
Not a student came to PYTHAGORAS, until, in despair, so the story runs,
he offered to pay an artisan if he would but learn geometry.
The man accepted, and later, when PYTHAGORAS pretended inability
any longer to continue the payments, he offered, so fascinating did
he find the subject, to pay his teacher instead if the lessons might
only be continued. PYTHAGORAS no doubt was much gratified at this;
and the motto he adopted for his great Brotherhood, of which we shall make
the acquaintance in a moment, was in all likelihood based on this event.
It ran, "Honour a figure and a step before a figure and a tribolus";
or, as a freer translation renders it:--

"A figure and a step onward Not a figure and a florin."

"At all events, as Mr FRANKLAND remarks, "the motto is a lasting witness
to a very singular devotion to knowledge for its own sake."[1]

[1] W. B. FRANKLAND, M.A.: _The Story of Euclid_ (1902), p. 33

But PYTHAGORAS needed a greater audience than one man, however
enthusiastic a pupil he might be, and he left Samos for Southern Italy,
the rich inhabitants of whose cities had both the leisure
and inclination to study. Delphi, far-famed for its Oracles,
was visited _en route_, and PYTHAGORAS, after a sojourn at Tarentum,
settled at Croton, where he gathered about him a great band
of pupils, mainly young people of the aristocratic class.
By consent of the Senate of Croton, he formed out of these a
great philosophical brotherhood, whose members lived apart from
the ordinary people, forming, as it were, a separate community.
They were bound to PYTHAGORAS by the closest ties of admiration
and reverence, and, for years after his death, discoveries made
by Pythagoreans were invariably attributed to the Master,
a fact which makes it very difficult exactly to gauge
the extent of PYTHAGORAS' own knowledge and achievements.
The regime of the Brotherhood, or Pythagorean Order, was a strict one,
entailing "high thinking and low living" at all times.
A restricted diet, the exact nature of which is in dispute,
was observed by all members, and long periods of silence,
as conducive to deep thinking, were imposed on novices.
Women were admitted to the Order, and PYTHAGORAS' asceticism did
not prohibit romance, for we read that one of his fair pupils
won her way to his heart, and, declaring her affection for him,
found it reciprocated and became his wife.

SCHURE writes: "By his marriage with Theano, Pythagoras affixed
_the seal of realization_ to his work. The union and fusion
of the two lives was complete. One day when the master's
wife was asked what length of time elapsed before a woman
could become pure after intercourse with a man, she replied:
`If it is with her husband, she is pure all the time;
if with another man, she is never pure.' " "Many women,"
adds the writer, "would smilingly remark that to give such a reply
one must be the wife of Pythagoras, and love him as Theano did.
And they would be in the right, for it is not marriage that
sanctifies love, it is love which justifies marriage."[1]

[1] EDOUARD SCHURE: _Pythagoras and the Delphic Mysteries_, trans.
by F. ROTHWELL, B.A. (1906), pp. 164 and 165.

PYTHAGORAS was not merely a mathematician. he was first and foremost
a philosopher, whose philosophy found in number the basis of all things,
because number, for him, alone possessed stability of relationship.
As I have remarked on a former occasion, "The theory that the Cosmos
has its origin and explanation in Number . . . is one for which it
is not difficult to account if we take into consideration the nature
of the times in which it was formulated. The Greek of the period,
looking upon Nature, beheld no picture of harmony, uniformity and
fundamental unity. The outer world appeared to him rather
as a discordant chaos, the mere sport and plaything of the gods.
The theory of the uniformity of Nature--that Nature is ever
like to herself--the very essence of the modern scientific spirit,
had yet to be born of years of unwearied labour and unceasing
delving into Nature's innermost secrets. Only in Mathematics--
in the properties of geometrical figures, and of numbers--
was the reign of law, the principle of harmony, perceivable.
Even at this present day when the marvellous has become commonplace,
that property of right-angled triangles . . . already
discussed . . . comes to the mind as a remarkable and notable fact:
it must have seemed a stupendous marvel to its discoverer, to whom,
it appears, the regular alternation of the odd and even numbers,
a fact so obvious to us that we are inclined to attach no importance
to it, seemed, itself, to be something wonderful. Here in Geometry
and Arithmetic, here was order and harmony unsurpassed and unsurpassable.
What wonder then that Pythagoras concluded that the solution
of the mighty riddle of the Universe was contained in the mysteries
of Geometry? What wonder that he read mystic meanings into the laws
of Arithmetic, and believed Number to be the explanation and origin
of all that is?"[1]

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