des of motion as essentially
spontaneous and self-determined. Moreover (as Aristotle tells
us) he identified this inherent principle of change with what is
divine in nature and in the soul. That is to say, the Real, for
Thales, is living impulse and continuous process. It is
experienced in man's conscious activities, and constitutes the
principle of unity in every mode and form of existence.

It is on the organic side of this speculation that Aristotle,
probably biased by his biological studies, chiefly dwells. Is it
possible to trace the grounds of which Thales based his wider
induction? Aristotle helps us. He supposes his predecessor to
have noted that water and life seem to be inseparable, and that
moisture is necessary to the germination and development of all
known organisms. It was natural to conclude that the principle
of life is in the water--the conclusion of the reason also
harmonising with the intuition stimulated by movement. Nor
was the inference altogether unwarranted. Put into historical
perspective, it still retains its force and value. The latest
biological authorities tell us that all branches of the zoological
family tree were formed on the moist shores of large water
basins, and that there is no form of life, not only terrestrial, but
even of the deep seas which has not passed through a littoral
phase. In other words, it is still allowable to hold that the
"moist," as Thales generally called his primal element, contains
one of the secrets of life. So close is the earliest to the latest
pronouncement on the origin of life on the globe!

Reviewing this brief exposition of the leading doctrine of an
ancient speculation, what bearing has it on the principles of
Nature Mysticism as laid down in preceding chapters? Certain
fairly obvious ones. Thales was guided by impressions received
from the qualities, behaviour, and functions of water; and they
led him to attribute a plastic life to matter. It would be
modernising him too severely to style him a hylozoist. But his
ascription of a soul to the magnet and to amber carries him far
on the way to that metaphysical world-view. Deeply suggestive
also is the saying which, if not rightly attributed to him, is at
least characteristic of his school--"All things are full of the
gods." We may therefore infer that the physical properties of
water are such as to suggest the ideas which have culminated in
modern animism. That is to say, water is capable of producing