Well, was there ever such stuff
concocted before? I almost hear the bray of that donkey, who
originated in a flower. And pray, most sapient self! what is nature?
It seems _now_, to me, a _form_, a mere dead incubus of matter. And
could this inert tangible matter, sublimate in its hard, dead bosom,
an essence so subtle, as to be freer of the bonds of time and space?
At such a preposterous suggestion even a donkey might bow his ears
with shame. So I will hand this "progressive chain of being" over to
a deeper darkness, and pass on.
Lo! here lie the statues of broken gods, headless divinities. I
tried to believe in Greek mythology; to fancy that the world had
gone backwards, and that there were spirits of the earth and air,
that took part in the life of man. But these were poetic visions
that shifted and waved with every fleeting fancy. But _now_ this
would be a pleasant faith. What if I _could_ appeal to an invisible,
higher spiritual being, who sympathized with my nature, to lead me
out of this darkness of ignorance into a true world of light, of
truth, of definite knowledge, concerning life and its origin;
concerning God and His nature? If I were only an old Greek, how I
would pray to Minerva for help, and call upon Hercules to remove
this Augean dirt, that pollutes and lumbers all the chambers of my
mind! But when the old Greeks called, were they answered? Ah, there
is nothing to hope for!
Yet Socrates believed in these spiritual existences; he ordered a
cock to be sacrificed to Esculapius as he was drinking the hemlock.
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