## The Project Gutenberg eBook of Ancient Faiths And Modern

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Title: Ancient Faiths And Modern

Author: Thomas Inman

Release date: November 22, 2011 [eBook #38100]
Most recently updated: November 20, 2012

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/38100

Credits: Produced by David Widger

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANCIENT FAITHS AND MODERN ***

# ANCIENT FAITHS AND MODERN:

## A Dissertation upon Worships, Legends and Divinities

### In Central And Western Asia, Europe, And Elsewhere, Before The Christian Era. Showing Their Relations To Religious Customs As They Now Exist.

## By Thomas Inman

> Author Of "Ancient Faiths Embodied In Ancient Names," Etc., Etc. Consulting Physician To The Royal Infirmary, Liverpool; Lecturer, Successively, On Botany, Medical Jurisprudence, Therapeutics, Materia Medica, And The Principles And Practice Ok Medicine, Etc., In The Liverpool School Ok Medicine. Etc.

### 1876

TO THOSE WHO THIRST AFTER KNOWLEDGE, AND ARE NOT DETERRED FROM SEEKING IT BY THE FEAR OF IMAGINARY DANGERS, THIS VOLUME IS INSCRIBED, WITH GREAT RESPECT, By THE AUTHOR

## Contents

## PREFACE.

Some thirty years ago, after a period of laborious study, I became the House Surgeon of a large Infirmary. In that institution I was enabled to see the practice of seven different doctors, and to compare the results which followed from their various plans of treatment. I soon found that the number of cures was nearly equal amongst them all, and became certain that recovery was little influenced by the medicine given. The conclusion drawn was that the physician could do harm, but that his power for good was limited. This induced me to investigate the laws of health and of disease, with an especial desire to discover some sure ground on which the healing art might safely stand. The inquiry was a long one, and to myself satisfactory. The conclusions to which I came were extremely simple—amounting almost to truisms; and I was surprised that it had required long and sustained labour to find out such very homely truths as those which I seemed to have unearthed.

Yet, with this discovery came the assurance that, if I could induce my medical brethren to adopt my views, they would deprive themselves of the means of living. Men, like horses or tigers, monkeys and codfish, can do without doctors. Here and there, it is true, that the art and skill of the physician or surgeon can relieve pain, avert danger from accidents, and ward off death for a time; but, in the generality of cases, doctors are powerless. It is the business of such men, however, to magnify their office to the utmost. They get their money ostensibly by curing the sick; but it is clear, that the shorter the illness the fewer will be the fees, and the more protracted the attendance the larger must be the "honorarium." There is, then, good reason why the medical profession should discourage too close an investigation into truth.

But, outside of this fraternity, there are many men desirous of understanding the principles of the healing art Many of these have begun by noticing the style of the doctor's education. They find that he is taught in "halls," "colleges," and "schools," for a certain period of time; and then, at about the age of two-and-twenty, he is examined by some experienced men, and, if considered "competent," he pays certain fees, and is then licensed to practise as physician. As all regular doctors go through this course, it is natural that all should think and act in a common way, and style their doctrines "orthodox." It is equally certain that to such opinion the majority adhere through life. But it has always happened, that many men and women have aspired to the position of medical professors, without going through the usual career; or, having done so, they have struck out a novel plan of practice, which they designate a new method of cure. These have always been opposed by the "orthodox," and the contest is carried on with varying success, until the general public give their verdict on one side or the other. Into the motives which sway the respective combatants we will not enter; our chief desire being to show that each set is upheld by those who are designated "laymen," whose education has not been medical The most intelligent on the heterodox side have been clergymen; and many have been the complaints of "orthodox" doctors, that "the parsons" should patronize, so energetically as they do, medical "dissenters."

As the "clerk" takes pleasure in examining the therapeutical doctrines of his physician, so the medical professor frequently inquires closely into his clergyman's theological views and feels himself at liberty to accept or oppose them, as the "clerk" adopts or attacks him and his theory and practice. It would, indeed, be disrespectful in the listener not to pay intelligent heed to the discourses which emanate from the pulpit. I have myself listened to the preaching of hundreds of university graduates, and of men who never took a degree, and have noticed that the same diversity of style exists amongst them, as is to be found in medical men. Some order a certain plan of treatment for a soul, which they assert to be grievously affected, and give no reason for what they say or do. Others give their motives for everything which they affirm, and for the plan which they prescribe for cure. Under the ministry of one of the last I sat for many years. Conspicuous for sound judgment, and for a peculiarly clear oratory, his sermons were to me an intellectual treat. From the exordium, forwards, I followed his words closely, and lost none of his arguments. But I soon became conscious that he never once carried his reasoning to its logical conclusion. Still further, it was manifest that certain things were by him taken for granted; and it was held to be culpable to inquire into the reality of those assumptions. In fine, it was evident, that there was a Bluebeard's closet in the house of God, into which, in the preacher's opinion, it was death to pry!

With the idea which was gradually forced upon my mind, that there was a systematic suppression of the truth in the pulpit, I very carefully searched the Bible, with which I have been familiar from infancy, and upon which, it is asserted, all our faith is founded. At this time, too, a casual inquiry into some ancient cognomens, which have descended to us from remote antiquity, induced me to examine into ancient faiths generally. With this became associated an examination of all religions, and their influence upon mankind.

I found that in every nation there have been, and still are, good men and bad, gentle and brutal, thoughtful and ignorant. That the best men of Paganism—Buddha, for example—did not lose, by comparison, with the brightest light of Christianity; and that such large cities as London and Paris, have as much vice within them as ancient Rome or modern Calcutta. I found, moreover, that there is a culpable colouring in the accounts given by Christian travellers of Pagan countries. The clerical pen rests invariably and strongly upon the bad points of every heathen cult, and contrasts them with the best elements of Christianity. I do not know that it has ever instituted a fair comparison between corresponding characters in each faith. As an illustration of my meaning, let us regard the stern virtue of the Roman Lucretia, who committed suicide, her body having been forcibly defiled by the embraces of another than her husband, even though the ravisher was a prince. She had heard nothing of the Jewish law or Christian gospel, nevertheless she was far better than the wives of the nobles in the courts of Louis the XIV. and XV., who gladly sold themselves and their daughters to the royal lechers. These, unlike the Italian woman, were instructed both in the law and the gospel; they attended one place or another of Christian worship daily or weekly. Nay, if report be true, "the eldest son of the Church," when he visited the "parc aux cerfs," made each fresh virgin, victim of his passion, duly say her prayers before she assisted him to commit adultery, and herself permitted fornication! We sympathize with Paul and the early Christian fathers in their denunciations of the Romans and Greeks for obscenities practised in honour of their gods; but, at the same time, we feel sure that, had those apostles and teachers lived in the middle ages, they would have denounced, with greater warmth, the murders which were constantly being perpetrated in honour of Jesus.

In like manner, we may greatly regret, with the writer of Psalm xiv., that amongst "the children of men, there is none that doeth good; no, not one;" but we must equally bow before the statement of Ezekiel (ch. xxii. 30), that there was no more propriety amongst the so-called "chosen people of God," than amongst the Gentile Canaanites and Babylonians.

Again, we feel pain when we find the great ones of the earth—aye, and many small ones too—seeking out for villains, "willing to commit murder for a mede," and lament that lawgivers should secretly encourage lawlessness; but we cannot forget that Jesus of Nazareth is represented, in John vi. 70, to have selected a devil to bring about certain ends—see also John xiii. 26, 27, in which the agency is well marked.

Modern divines tell us that war, tumult, hatred, malice, quarrels of all kinds, and murder come from the devil, and are the direct result of our fallen nature; nevertheless, we remember that Jesus is reported to have said—"I came not to send peace, but a sword; I am come to set a man at variance against his father, and the daughter against the mother," &c. (Matt. x. 34, 35). When we institute comparisons like these, the balance is not uneven. I found, moreover, that the sharply defined line, commonly drawn between Paganism and Christianity, is worthless—the doctrines of the latter being, in many respects, identical with, or deduced from, the former.

It seemed necessary, therefore, to ascertain whether, in religion, any other line than the one in vogue in Europe, could be drawn with certainty.

The result of my observations showed a wonderful similarity to exist between the clerical and medical profession; and I feel that, if my views about the cure of souls and bodies were generally adopted, there would be no need either for parson or for doctor. Instead of discovering, as I had hoped to do, which of all the rival sects of Christendom is the best one, I found that all were unnecessary, that many are degraded in doctrine and bad in practice; and that, if any must exist, the one which effects the least mischief should be the one selected for general adoption. It required much courage to allow myself to believe that doctors have, taking everything into consideration, done more harm in the world than good, and still more to announce my conviction that Christianity was even more culpable than medicine. The physician, when professing to cure, has too often assisted disease to kill; and he who has had the cure of souls, has invented plans to make believers in his doctrine miserable. The first fills his coffers proportionally to the extent to which he can protract recovery; the second becomes rich in proportion to the success with which he multiplies mental terrors, and then sells repose. The one enfeebles the body, the other cripples the intellect, and aggravates envy, hatred, and malice. Both are equally influential in preventing man from being such as we believe that the Almighty designed him to be.

Though we oppose the old plan of medication of body and mind, we are far from asserting that there is no value in an honest doctor, either of divinity or medicine. On the contrary, I have a stronger faith in my own profession, as it has been reformed, than ever I had ere the light of good sense had shone upon it; and I have a far more confident trust in the religion propounded by F. W. Newman, in Theism, than in that current amongst Christians in general But in such schemes of physic and faith, very few "ministers" are necessary, shams find no place, and emoluments are small A man who communes with his God requires no priest, mediator, middle-man, or saint—whether virgin, martyr, or both—to intercede for him.

Holding such opinions as these, it is not probable that I shall find many followers. I do not seek them. My aim has been to set good sterling stuff before the world, so that any one, whose self-reliance is great, may receive strength. There are many who would rather die with a physician close beside them when they are ill, than live without a doctor; and there are few who would not rather enjoy the fear of hell with the orthodox, than be with heretics free from such terrors—"For sure, the pleasure is as great in being cheated, as to cheat." To all such our writings are caviare. Yet, even to them, we would say that we have warrant for our belief in statements, to which the orthodox cannot reasonably object—viz., "If thou doest well, shalt thou not be accepted?" (Gen. iv. 7); "In every nation, he that feareth God, and worketh righteousness, is accepted with him" (Acts x. 35); "He that doeth righteousness, is righteous" (1 John iii. 7).

Let me contrast my own views with those generally current amongst us. I believe that God did not make men, any more than the beasts, to damn the largest number of them throughout eternity. I believe that all who aver that they have been selected by the Creator from all the world besides as the only recipients of salvation are wrong, and deceivers of the people. In fine, I believe that God's "tender mercies are over all his works." The common opinion that the Almighty so revels in cruelty, that He makes creatures to torture them, is a horrible one to me—fit only to come from impotent Pagan priests. That Jehovah selected about one million of bad men, out of about four hundred other millions equally bad, solely because their progenitor, Abraham, consented to murder and burn his son, is to me a frightful blasphemy; and, lastly, that God has no tender mercies for nine-tenths of the human race, is to convert our conception of the Author of all good into the conventional "Devil." The comparison may be summed up thus: I believe in God, the Father of all things; the so-called orthodox believe in the God Satan. I do not know anything in all my studies which excited my attention more painfully than the result of the analysis of Jehovah's character, as given in our Bible. Kind to those who are said to please Him, He is a fearful demon to all who are said to oppose Him.

How can any reasonable man hold the opinion that the Devil instigated all atrocities of the Syrians, Chaldees, Assyrians, Romans, Turks, Tartars, Saracens, Affghans, Mahometans, and Hindoos, and believe that the good God drowned the whole world, and nearly every single thing that had life; that He ordered the extermination, not only of Midianites and Amalekites, but slaughtered, in one way or another, all the people whom he led out of Egypt—except two—merely because they had a natural fear of war. What was the massacre at Cawnpore to that in Jericho and other Canaanite cities? I say it with sober seriousness—in sorrow, not in anger—as a thinking man, and not as an advocate for, or against, any religious view, that it is an awful thing for any nation to permit a book to circulate, as a sacred one, in which God and the Devil are painted in the same colours.

Into this analysis of religion I was led to enter from the observation of a friend, who challenged me to find, in any non-Hebraic or non-Christian country, a faith or practice equal to that current amongst the followers of Moses and Jesus, or to discover any spot in the wide world where there is, or has been, a civilization equal to that which existed in Judea, and the parts inhabited by Christians. In consequence of this defiance, it became more than ever necessary for me to study the nature of the current faith and practice of Christendom, and to inquire how far the latter was dependent upon the former—that is to say, whether the practices of civilization are due to our religion, or have gradually grown up in spite of it. The next point was to pay similar heed to the doctrines and manner of life common amongst those to whom our Bible has been wholly unknown.

Many of the conclusions to which I came have already appeared in the second volume of Ancient Faiths, under the heads of "Religion," "Theology," &c.; but others came upon me when that book had been completed, and the present supplement is designed with the idea of expressing, still further, the extent of my views, and the evidence upon which they are founded—with special reference to the differential value of Christian and unchristian faith and practice.

As was natural, this involved the question constantly before my mind in the preceding volumes—viz., "Is there in reality anything in the Hebrew and the Christian theology essentially different from that promulgated by the leaders of divinity in other countries?" This point has repeatedly been discussed, and amongst the orthodox there is no difficulty in allowing the existence of a strong similarity in all systems of religion; but the value of the fact is supposed to be reduced to ridicule by the monstrous assertion, that Moses and Jesus taught all the world. Amongst the books which came under my notice, whilst prosecuting my search, was a very remarkable one, called The Modern Buddhist, now The Wheel of the Law, which is an account of the religious thoughts of a Siamese monarch, with a statement of his conversations with Christian missionaries. In this the British churchman and non-conformist can see themselves as others see them; and the Asiatic has quite as great, perhaps even a superior, right to call the European "poor and benighted," as the Christian has to call the Buddhist "a miserable Pagan."

Notwithstanding my endeavours to be perfectly "judicial," and to give what I believe to be an impartial account of the subjects which I describe, I have been, by certain critics, accused of special pleading. It is, perhaps, unnecessary to deny the charge, for each reader must judge of my fairness, or otherwise, for himself. But, on the other hand, I retort most strongly, by averring that I have not met, in the whole course of my reading, a religious work by an orthodox divine, which does not "bear false witness against its neighbours."

There is in all both a suppressio veri and a suggestio falsi, which makes the honest inquirer almost entirely reject their books. In addition to this, there is in them a recklessness of statement and assertion which is unequalled, except in the fierce controversies of ancient doctors. The perfect contempt which certain puny divines, who have endeavoured to throw dirt upon the present Bishop of Natal, show for the laws of evidence, and the systematic way in which they avoid every real point at issue, are marvellous to those who know that such people have had an university education, have studied logic, and profess an unlimited respect for truth. In future years the theological writings, generally, of our time will be as much objurgated by enlightened, earnest, and thoughtful readers, as Protestants of to-day abuse the theology and prurience of Sanchez, Thomas Aquinas, and Peter Dens.

In conclusion, I would wish to add, that I am conscious, from the amount of correspondence which I have had on the subject in hand, that there is not only a wide, but a constantly extending dissatisfaction with the current theology taught by the ministers of all denominations—excepting, as a body, the Unitarians, and such individuals as Bishop Colenso, Bishop Hinds, Mr Voysey, and others. The laity are awaking to the fact that priests are strenuously endeavouring to quench the light of reason in the fogs of faith. Unless the Protestantism, of which Great Britain was once so proud, decides to drift into Papism—the only legitimate harbour for those who reject reason for a guide—it must thoroughly reform itself, and ruthlessly reject, as "necessary to salvation," every article of belief which is not only nonsensical or absurd, but which has unquestionably descended from a grovelling Paganism. To this end we hope that our essays will contribute.

## INTRODUCTORY

## CHAPTER I.

         A recapitulation. Destruction of an old edifice precedes the
         building of another on the same site. Chichester Cathedral.
         Difficulties of reconstruction. Innovators are regarded as
         enemies. The Old Testament appraised. The Jews and their
         pretensions. Hebraic idea of Jehovah. The sun and moon. God
         and goddess. Importance of sexual perfection in a Hebrew
         male. Women are prizes given to the faithful Jews. Almost
         everything Jewish came from Pagan sources, except the
         Sabbath. Inquiry into the New Testament necessarily follows
         upon an investigation of the Old. Thoughts upon the history
         of Christianity. Malignancy of its professors. Life of
         Jesus, by various authors. The ground preoccupied.    The
         plan proposed.

In commencing another volume of a series, and one to a great extent independent of the other two, it is advisable to pause and recapitulate the points advanced, and the positions attained. This is the more necessary when the present inquiry is a natural result of a preceding one, and when an attempt is made to collect and arrange the scattered materials into an harmonious and consistent edifice. Our volumes on the subject of "Ancient Faiths in Ancient Names" were, to a great extent, destructive. They struck heavy blows in all directions, wherever a false idol was to be recognized, and they destroyed many a cherished delusion, which was to many as dear as the apple of their eye. But, throughout the whole process of destruction, the idea of the necessity for a reconstruction was present to the mind of the author.

It may, indeed, be propounded as an interesting question, whether any iconoclast ever destroys the idols which his fellow-beings cherish, without entertaining the belief that he has something superior to offer in their place. When the fanatic Spaniards upset, fractured, and ground to powder the stone monsters venerated by the Mexicans, they offered to the natives the image of a lovely virgin and her gentle son to replace them; and when the enthusiastic Scotchmen destroyed the marble saints and gaudy figures of the Popish churches throughout their own country, they eagerly set forth the superiority of adoring the invisible creator in spirit and imagination, which afforded scope for the most entrancing mental delineations, and was far superior to reverencing an ugly effigy, which no one with any correct taste could admire. In like manner, when the Mahometan Caliph destroyed the library of Alexandria, he offered to the mourners in its place the book of the Prophet Mahomet, which was, in his eyes, a pearl of so great price as to be equivalent in value to all the world besides.

There can be no doubt, however, that the process of destruction is far more easy than the task of reconstruction. The engineer who is called upon to remove a bridge, on account of the badness of its foundation, may admire the extraordinary firmness with which every stone has been dovetailed together, and, with the means at his command, may be unable to construct another having a similar appearance of stability; yet, after all, an arch which is secure and stable is preferable to one which is good only in appearance. A very few years have elapsed since it was found that the tower and spire of the Cathedral at Chichester had been so built that there was imminent danger of the whole falling down. This part of the edifice resembled certain faiths which have been raised with great art to a vast height, with very slender and inadequate material. So long as they were not assailed by any storm, or tested by the changes which time produces, they seemed firm and unshakable; but, when they were really tried, they began to undergo a process similar to that which obtained in the Cathedral named—the admirers of the edifice attempted to prop up the failing tower; with iron and timber they shored up its bulging sides; they erected strong scaffolds to ease the mighty strain upon the crumbling walls; but all in vain—the lovely spire, built upon a foundation as rotten as the Mormon faith, came tumbling down, and the tall emblem pointing to the sky returned once more to earth. Before there could be any reconstruction attempted, it was necessary to procure all the material necessary; and when, with great labour, this was accumulated, a fresh erection was made, which was far stronger than the first, for every stone was duly examined, and solid masonry replaced the ancient rubble. So it has been with many a faith. Christianity has replaced the crumbling Judaism which existed at the beginning of our era, and the Reformed Church has since then, in many countries, replaced the gigantic sham of Popery. But the metaphor is one which we cannot wholly adopt, inasmuch as we believe that no faith of ancient times has ever wholly fallen like the spire and tower of Chichester, nor has any new system of belief the solidity of that new edifice which has replaced the old.

The difficulties connected with reconstruction are greatly increased by the propensity which is so common in the human mind to make the best of that which is in actual existence and familiar to the vulgar, rather than to adopt something entirely new. The child who dislikes to go to bed at night equally dislikes to get up in the morning, and we have known elderly people who have systematically preferred an old lumbering stage-coach to a first-class compartment in a railway carriage. In every walk of life an innovator is regarded as an enemy by the majority, and especially by those whose practice or whose theories his discoveries supersede.

Yet, great as is the contest which any new truth has to sustain, there is no doubt whatever that the first part of the fight—the preliminaries essential to conquest, are the investigation of the ground to be occupied; the real value of the defences; the superiority of the armour; and the temper, strength, and tenacity of the offensive weapons. The engineer to whom is confided the attack or the defence of a town will abandon or destroy everything which would harbour an enemy or facilitate his operations. The fighting commodore, ere he carries his ship into action, sacrifices readily all the gewgaws of luxury; and in like manner the ecclesiastic ought never to endanger his position by spending his energies in the defence of a useless outwork or a tinsel ornament. Entertaining these views ourselves, our first effort has been to clear the ground, and to remove every object which we consider to be detrimental to the spread of truth.

We have demonstrated, as far as such a matter is capable of demonstration, that the Old Testament, which has descended to us from the Jews, is not the mine of truth which it has been supposed by so many to be: that not only it is not a revelation given by God to man, but that it is founded upon ideas of the Almighty which are contradicted by the whole of animate and inanimate nature. We showed, that its composition was wholly of human origin, and that its authors had a very mean and degrading notion of the Lord of Heaven and Earth. We proved, what indeed Colenso and a host of German critics have demonstrated in another fashion, that its historical portions are not to be depended upon; that its stories are of no more real value than so many fairy tales or national legends; that its myths can now be readily traced to Grecian, Babylonian, and Persian sources; that its miracles are as apocryphal as those told of Vishnu, Siva, and other deities; and its prophecies absolutely worthless. We proved, moreover, that the remote antiquity of its authorship has been greatly exaggerated; that the stories of the creation, of the flood, of Abraham, of Jacob, of the descent into, and the exodus from, Egypt, of the career of Moses and the Jews in the desert, of Joshua and his soldiers, of the judges and their clients, are all apocryphal, and were fabricated at a late period of Jewish history, with the design of inspiriting the Hebrews at a period when their depression of spirit from foreign conquest was extreme; that the so-called Mosaic laws were not known until long after the time of David, and that some of the enactments—that about the Jubilee, for example—were never promulgated at all. We showed that the Jewish conception of the Almighty, and of His heavenly host, did not materially differ from the Greek idea of Jupiter and his inferior deities; that the Hebrews regarded Jehovah as having human passions and very human failings—as loving, revengeful, stern, merry, and vacillating—as "everything by turns and nothing long"—as forming a resolution, and then contriving how He might, as it were, overreach Himself. We pointed out that the Jews did, in reality, paint God and the Devil or Satan, as the same individual, being the former to His friends, and the latter to His enemies. Indeed, anyone who compares 2 Sam. xxiv. 1 with 1 Chron. xxi. 1 will see this most clearly demonstrated. We called attention to the apparently utter ignorance of the Jews that certain laws of nature existed, and of their consequent belief that defeat, disease, famine, slaughter, pestilence, and the like, were direct punishments of ceremonial or other guilt; while victory, wealth, virility, and old age were special and decided proofs of the Divine favour. We showed that the Jews were, in general, an abject but a very boastful race, and that their spiritual guides—the so-called prophets—were constantly promising, but always vainly, a striking manifestation of the Almighty's power in favour of the Hebrews when they were in the depths of misery, that histories were fabricated to give colour to these statements, and that these, like modern miracles of saints, were narrated as occurring a long time ago, and in a locality which could not be visited, e.g., in Samaria and Egypt; we showed, moreover, that the race was imitative, and readily adopted the religious ideas and practices of those who conquered them. Still further, we proved that the Jews had no idea whatever of a future state, and were in utter ignorance of heaven or hell; that they regarded the Almighty as punishing crime or rewarding goodness in this world alone, and, consequently, we inferred either—(1) that the conversation said to have been held between Jehovah and certain apocryphal men did not really occur; or (2) that God did not think the existence of a future world a matter of sufficient consequence to communicate to His friends; or (3) that Elohim had not then created either a habitation for the blessed, or a future prison-house for the damned; and we pointed out that the opinions of the Pharisees about angels, spirits, and futurity were not based upon the writings of Moses and the prophets, but upon Persian fantasies. In fine, we showed, that the Hebrews could not sustain the claim they made to be the especial people of God, and that their writings are of no more value, as records of absolute truth, or of Divine revelation, than the books of the Greeks, Persians, Egyptians, Hindoos, Chinese, or the more modern Mahometans.

With all this we indicated that there was, throughout the nations known as Shemitic, a general belief in the existence of an Almighty Being, Creator, Director and Governor of the heaven, the earth, and the sea; that He was considered to be One, yet that He was, nevertheless, represented by a multiplicity of names, and as having many and opposite attributes.

We also showed, that this sublime conception was very thickly coated with human ideas, often of a debased and grovelling type, and darkened by legends, which were invented by priests with the design of clothing themselves, and those of their order, with a portion of the garments which they had assigned to the Inscrutable. We showed, how the sun and moon, the stars and planets, became interwoven with the idea of a Celestial Being, and how they were described in turn as His ministers, His residence, His army, and sometimes even as Himself. We showed, moreover, that the Almighty was depicted by some as a male, having the attributes and passions of men, by others as a female, or celestial goddess, and by others as androgyne—not exactly a bifrons, like Janus, but masculine and feminine, Elohim, Baalim, Ashtaroth; that in the development of this idea, everything which has reference to the phenomena of mundane creation was closely studied, and introduced into one religious system or another. As a result of this, it followed, that there were some sects and temples consecrated to the adoration of the Creator as masculine, others as feminine, and others as both combined. We showed still farther, that each sect adopted certain emblems, which were intended to represent the distinctive mark of the sex under which it worshipped the Omnipotent, and that the emblems became multiplied as different nations came into contact with each other, learned foreign theology, and advanced in their knowledge of natural history. To such an extent was this symbolism, to which we refer, carried, that the sexual idea of the Creator at last pervaded, to a greater or less degree, all forms of worship, and gradually degraded them deeper and deeper, in consequence of the emblems of the deity being mistaken for the deity itself, much in the same way as the vulgar, amongst the Roman Catholics, regard a statuette or picture of the Virgin, or an Ashantee a particular form of idol fetish. As an example of such development, we pointed out that the Assyrians represented the Godhead as four-fold, consisting of the triple male and the single female element in mundane creation, and that the idea of the trinity in unity, which is a doctrine recognized as far back amongst all nations as history will carry us, was originally founded solely upon the well-known fact that the characteristic of the male is a triad, of which all the parts are really, and in no mysterious manner, "co-eternal together and co-equal." We also showed that the feminine idea of the Creator has, from time immemorial, been associated, in one form or another, with that of a lovely virgin holding a child in her arms, which is generally very young, and mostly receiving food from a maternal bosom, the reason of which we hinted at.

We showed that the myths of Adam and Eve, Abraham and Sarai, Esau and Jacob, were incorporations of the idea that the trinity and the unity, or, to use the very words of the Athanasian creed, "the trinity in unity," were the founders of the race of living beings, and, as such, worthy of worship and honour throughout all ages. This union was spoken of as "the four," and was symbolized as a square or a cross of four points, or a cross of eight points. We showed, still farther, that the male Creator was identified with the sun, and the female with the crescent moon, and also with the earth; and that one of the symbols of this celestial union of the sexes was the sun lying within the moon's crescent.

We also demonstrated, that a very large part of Pagan worship consisted in the performance of rites and ceremonies, whose end was the glorification of the deity under one or other of the selected symbols, and that a number of feasts were appointed to be held at certain astronomical periods, in which the assistants were encouraged to indulge in every form of sensuality (Deut. xiv. 26). We pointed out, that the Jewish people were largely tainted by this vicious form of worship prior to the Babylonian captivity, and that a very large portion of their nomenclature was based upon sexual ideas of the Creator. We also showed, that the Jewish writings encouraged certain forms of sensuality in a conspicuous manner; that the condition of the male organ was represented as being of such importance as to be the ground work of the covenant between God and the Hebrews, it being declared (Gen. xvii. 14), as if by the word of the Lord, that no man was to be allowed to live whose organ had not been improved in a definite manner, i.e., by circumcision or excision of the prepuce, and that no man was to be admitted into the congregation of the faithful whose characteristic male organs had in any way been injured or removed. Deuteronomy xxiii. 1 is conclusive upon this point, and there is no ambiguity in the words of the decree. We pointed out, also, that not only was abundance of offspring promised to the faithful as a proof of God's regard to them, but that the laws, said to be delivered by Jehovah to Moses, positively provided (see Deut. xxi. 10-14) the means by which the harems of the wealthy could be stocked in times of war, and by which even the poor might also be indulged, in or about the precincts of the temple, where slave and foreign women were kept for the purpose (Numb. xxxi. 40). We pointed out that the natural result of this licensed debauchery was a great increase in the population, which was so much in excess of the capacity of the land to sustain them, that it was necessary to check the number of adult mouths by conniving at infanticide, as was done in Rajpootana up to a recent period, and is said to be done in China now. It is clear, from the denunciations by the prophets of the vileness of the Jews of Jerusalem, and the impotent laws which were introduced into the so-called Mosaic code, that the Hebrew family was to the full as bad and vile as were the nations around them.

We further showed that there was a marked difference in the thoughts, the doctrines, the laws, the knowledge, the writings, and the form of worship amongst the Jews after they had come into contact with the Babylonians, Persians, and Greeks; and we adverted to the fact that the laws of the Persians, and those of him, whom we would designate "the fictitious Moses," were remarkably similar; and we showed that everything in the Old Testament, which is, by the majority of Christians, deemed to be of Divine origin, had been derived from or through one or other of the sources which we have named, and which we call Pagan. From this we deduced the important corollary, either that the so-called revelation of the Old Testament is a sham, a priestly fabrication, and what is known as "a pious fraud," or that it was not made originally to the Hebrews. In neither case can the Jews establish a title to be the "chosen people of God" in any sense of the words. If the Bible is true, the Gentiles have spiritual precedence over the Hebrews, and the Pagans have the pas of the Christians.

This deduction enabled us to recognize the importance of an extended inquiry into the faith, religion, and practice of other nations, before we assume ourselves to be in a position to appreciate the claims which one human being, or any body of men, might make to be the representatives of the Almighty, the sole recipients of His commands, and the only medium by which prayers can be forwarded to Him. Again, the history of the past, and a study of the present, enabled us to see that the foundation of a new religion, or the modification of an old one, did not destroy ancient practices, though it transferred priestly power to a new set of men, who, while they introduced new gods and new dogmas, endeavoured to incorporate the older ideas with new, so as to seduce or cheat the vulgar, whom it was not judicious to slaughter, into adopting the new faith. Consequently, we are able to understand how indecent ideas, sexual emblems, and Pagan festivals, with many of the licentious practices associated therewith, have been handed down from a remote idolatry to a modern and comparatively enlightened Christianity. The symbols of the objectionable still remain, but the things symbolized have been altered, and the original ideas suppressed. The male triad is a holy trinity; the monad is no longer the emblem of womankind, but of the so-called Mother of God, or, as the Romanists say, of the Mater Creatoris. But with this knowledge comes the very important consideration, how far Christian ideas, which are founded upon Pagan fancies, can be regarded as Divine. This, again, involves the question, how far Jesus, who had not penetration enough to discover the true nature of the writings to which he trusted, can be considered as an incarnation of Divine knowledge, or of unbounded wisdom. Still further, it became clear, after our arguments, that if the stories of the creation of man, the fall of Adam, the life of Noah, of Abraham, of Moses, the tale of Sinai, and the supremacy of Judah, are mythical—if the prophetic writings are as worthless as the oracles of Dodona and of Delphi—then all theories, dogmas, and doctrines founded upon them must be equally valueless.

In pursuance of my subject, I pointed out that there was not a nation known to history which had not its god or gods, a sacred priesthood, a set of prophets, either located in one spot, or appearing as independent vaticinators, a number of holy festivals, of hallowed shrines, of mysterious temples, and an inner and recondite arcanum into which the profane were not permitted to enter. I showed that other nations besides the Jews had a sacred ark which was an emblem of a divinity; that the use of sacrifices was common to every nation of antiquity; and that such things had existed in Hindostan from time immemorial. I pointed out, that there was no single precept or order contained in the Jewish Ritual which could not be found amongst all other people, with the sole exception of the Sabbath; and that the respect for this very strange law was due to the ignorance of the Hebrews, who regarded Saturn as the most high amongst the gods—information gained from the Babylonians.

Thus, an investigation into the nature and importance of Ancient Faiths becomes a necessary prelude to, or, rather, is unavoidably followed by, an inquiry into the beliefs, doctrines, and practices current in Christendom generally, and in Great Britain particularly. Yet, though I was insensibly driven forwards to complete the task which I began, without having any definite notion of the amount of labour I should have to undergo, I passively resisted for a long time the conclusions to which I was drawn, feeling myself unwilling, almost, indeed, unable, to undertake an examination which might shake my faith in the New Testament as it had been shaken in the Old. Like many others of a thoughtful turn of mind, I could see, without very strong regret, the Jewish writings consigned to their appropriate niche in the library of the world; but I shunned the effort required to take down the books of the Gospels and Epistles and weigh them in the impartial balance of critical truth. Nevertheless, as my work on Ancient Faiths progressed, I became painfully conscious that I must plead guilty to the charge of mental cowardice if I shirked the duty of examining the New, as I had investigated the Old, Testament. But when the resolution to investigate modern faith was at length formed, the difficulties surrounding the subject became apparent. The history of modern faith is, to a great extent, the history of Christianity, and the history of Christianity must start from a history of Jesus and his apostles—Paul, Peter, James, John, and Jude, as given in the Epistles and Gospels included in the canon of the New Testament. To cope with any one of these histories as they deserve to be handled would involve the work of a lifetime, and for one man to exhaust the whole seemed to me an impossibility. There was, in addition to this, another consideration which complicated my difficulty still farther, viz., the fact that there were already, written histories of the nature of those alluded to, and that it would be useless to multiply them. It is a thankless task to pursue the current of the Christian religion through the dark scenes which shrouded it, from the time when it was adopted by a few "unlearned and ignorant men," until it emerged as a power able to shake empires—from the period wherein its professors were burned and otherwise tortured to death, to the days when their own Christian successors racked, roasted, and tormented their opponents, with a malignancy and cruelty as great as that which they themselves had execrated when practised upon their predecessors. From the moment that Christianity became a political power, its history resembled that of any tyrant or other ruler, and it is filled with misrepresentation, lying, fraud, the records of fighting and slaughter, of brutal passions, frightful laws, and horrible punishments; in fact, the record of political Christianity is that of a Devil in sheep's clothing. Even Calvin, one of our cherished reformers, burnt another Protestant almost in the same year as the Papists burnt Ridley and Latimer. The English Episcopalians in Scotland, and the Cromwellian Puritans in Ireland, showed more of the ravening wolf in their actions than of the amiable shepherd, who "gently leads" the weak ones of his flock. In fact, the more loud the proclamation of a pure Christianity, the more devilish is the practice of its heralds.

When I turned to the consideration of the life of Jesus, it was clear that the ground was already fully occupied. In 1799 a Mr Houston published a work entitled Ecce Homo; or, a Critical Inquiry into the History of Jesus Christ: being an Analysis of the Gospels, a second edition of which was made public fourteen years afterwards, and, as a result, its publisher (D. J. Eaton) was prosecuted, and such of the impressions as could be collected were publicly burned in St. George's Fields, London, by the common hangman, whose business it was to strangle truth as well as murderers. This book, which is little known to modern readers, is strictly what it professes to be—a critical inquiry into the history of Jesus Christ, and it may, to a great extent, be considered as the progenitor of more modern treatises. It does not materially differ from the Ecce Homo of to-day, or from the other works which we shall name, except in its style and composition. Having been written when all were in the habit of expressing their views in strong language, and when opponents were abused in terms of coarse invective, the author has expressed himself in a manner calculated to offend rather than to convince, and to stir up anger rather than to encourage thought. Yet his arguments are unanswerable, and his deductions unimpeachable, by those who know the value of evidence and exercise their power of ratiocination. I have been unable to find that any work was written in refutation of the author's views, and the only opposition to it was from the usual agent of the weak-minded, but strong-bodied—persecution.

In more recent times, and within a very short period of each other—so short, indeed, that we may say that the books were composed simultaneously in Hindostan, Germany, France, and England—there have appeared A Voice from the Ganges, Strauss' New Life of Jesus, Kenan's Life of Jesus, The English Life of Jesus, by Mr Thomas Scott, of Norwood, a second Ecce Homo, from a modern Professor, and The Prophet of Nazareth, by Owen Meredith.* In these volumes, the historical value of the Gospel narratives closely and critically examined, and a just appreciation of the character, preaching, and practice of the Prophet of Nazareth are honestly sought after, and, in the opinion of impartial readers, they must be held to have been attained. Throughout the series which we have mentioned nothing that is capable of demonstration, or of approximate proof, is taken for granted. The scholarship of the critical philosopher everywhere overbears the prejudice of the Christian bigot. Since the appearance of these another author has treated upon the same subject, but only cursorily, and as bearing upon other matters, in a work entitled The Book of God; or, The Apocalypse of Adam Oannes, which was published anonymously, 1868.

         * Whilst this sheet was in the printer's hands, a most
         remarkable book was published anonymously, entitled,
         Supernatural Religion, in two volumes. In it there is a
         most scholarly account of the origin of the New Testament
         writings, one which every thoughtful person should peruse.

Between the publication of the first Ecce Homo and the second, viz., in 1836, there was printed, for private circulation, a very remarkable work, entitled Anacalypsis; or, an Attempt to draw aside the Veil of the Saitic Isis, by Godfrey Higgins. His two volumes are replete with learning, and with deductions more startling than any which had appeared prior to his own time; but the subject matter is so badly arranged, that it is with very great difficulty that the trains of thought which occupied the author's mind can be dis-. covered. His main idea is, that very nearly everything in religion which appears to be mythical or mysterious enfolds certain astronomical facts—such as the precession of equinoxes, the duration of cycles of time—such as are necessary to reproduce exactly a concordance between certain terrestrial and celestial phenomena. With this theory he interweaves an amazing number of facts which seem to favour the opinion enunciated in the book of Ecclesiastes—i.e., that there is nothing new under the sun. He shows that the idea of "incarnations," the birth of a heavenly child from a pure virgin, and a variety of so-called Christian dogmas, have existed in every age of which we have historical accounts.

He gives a vivid sketch of the nature of Christianity and its progress from century to century, and he expresses himself respecting its modern developments much in the same strain, though in a far more gentlemanlike style, as did his contemporary, the Rev. R. Taylor, to whom was given, or who assumed for himself, the title of the Devil's chaplain.

In the estimation of some of these writers, Jesus, the son of Mary, is quite as mythical a being as Hercules, the son of Alcmena. This view has been more recently adopted by some freethinkers of the present day. The main support on which such individuals rely is the fact that there is no mention of Jesus by any contemporary historian; and that, although there are extant Jewish records of current history, at the time in which Christ is said to have lived, they make no mention of him who is now called the Saviour and of his wonderful history. It is pointed out that the histories of the Gospels came out with marvellous rapidity, from Alexandria, about the end of the first century, at a time when all contemporaries of Jesus were dead.

To this work of Higgins it is probable that we shall have repeatedly to refer, for his language is frequently so forcible that it cannot be improved, and, moreover, he very often quotes from books, copies of which I have been unable to obtain.

When I found that the ground which I intended to occupy had already been so well and so ably cultivated, it occurred to me that it would be advisable to take a wider flight than was originally contemplated, and, instead of examining the Christian faith alone, to associate with it an account of the faiths of those nations of whom we have some knowledge. By this means it appeared to me, that we should be enabled to see clearly, how far the current belief and practice of Christendom differs from the doctrines and practices of those to whom Christianity could never, by any possibility, have come, and we can examine, incidentally, into the teachings of Jesus, and compare them with that of his predecessor, Sakya Muni, or Buddha. We may also investigate impartially such doctrines as the immaculate conception, and the existence of angels.

When treating, however, a subject like the religions of the ancient and modern world, it is difficult to frame the history so as to bring out the salient points, in a manner satisfactory to the reader or to the writer. The latter is tempted to begin, as he believes, at the beginning, and to trace the development of religious thought from its simplest expression up to its highest aspiration. This temptation becomes all the stronger if, in the course of his study, he has investigated the animal and vegetable creations. In those vast kingdoms he sees that the philosopher is able to lead his disciples onwards from the minute monad, or the simplest mass of matter, to the gigantic mastodon, without any very conspicuous flaw or break in continuity; but, on closely observing his method of proceeding, the student finds that links which connect genera or species together are found in countries so wide apart, that no direct communication can be supposed between the one type and the other. Thus the gap between mammals and birds is said to be filled by the "ornithorhynchus paradoxus," an animal living in a vast island, in which scarcely one quadruped mammalian is known to have existed, and where the aboriginal birds form a class peculiar to Australia, and have no resemblance to the creature referred to.

Yet, though the temptation is great, and although we feel justified in reasoning from the known to the unknown, and in supplying missing links from analogy, or from our own imagination, still, we consider that it will be our best plan to confine ourselves, as far as possible, to that which is written, and to describe first, the religious ideas and practices of some so-called savages; secondly, the ideas and practices of some ancient races, whose histories, more or less perfect, have come down to us, with a view to ascertain whether there is anything essentially good in modern Christianity, either in faith or practice, which is peculiar to that form of religion, or whether almost the same style of teaching may not be found to have been common in the remote East, at a period some centuries prior to the birth of Jesus.

As we have investigated the subjects of Sin, Salvation, Prayer, Inspiration, &c., it is unnecessary to refer to them again.

## CHAPTER II

         Travellers' tales not to be trusted. Prejudice perverts
         facts. The Esquimaux. Cause of reverence for parents. The
         Red Indian in the presence of immigration is a moral
         murderer. Inquiry into Indian religion. O. KEE. PA. Indian
         reverence for phenomena of nature. Ruins of a past
         civilization in America. Cairns and human sacrifices.
         Manufactured goods. Bronze in Yucatan. Resemblance between
         the ancient American people and certain Orientals. Abbé
         Domenech's travels. Sacrifice at obsequies, idea involved
         thereby. Scythian proceedings. Mexico and its theology. Two
         different conceptions of deity. The Unity subdivided by
         Mexicans, Jews, and Christians. The God of war and the Lord
         of Hosts. The God of air a deity in Mexico, a devil in Judea
         or Ephesus. Mexican baptismal regeneration. Resemblances
         between the Occidental and Oriental people in many curious
         doctrines. Particulars. Mexican Heaven, Hell, and Limbo.
         Mexican baptism and prayers. Priests and their duties. A
         parallel. Romanists and Mexicans. Confession. Expiation.
         Human sacrifice to obtain pardon of sin. A comparison
         suggested. Mexican education. Purity of life in the Mexican
         priestesses. Father Acosta's opinion thereon. Tartary, Rome,
         and Mexico have something common in culture. Education of
         youth. Policy of the priesthood. Reflections thereupon.
         Teocallis or houses of God. Worship. Festivals. Human
         sacrifice. No sexual deities or rites. Question of
         credibility—God and the Devil act alike! Aztecs and
         Europeans compared. Christians have offered human sacrifice
         from the time of Peter downwards. Transubstantiation is a
         cannibal doctrine. Christian gods in Mexico as bad as the
         Aztec deities. History of Peru. The policy of its rulers.
         Roads and magazines. Nature of its government Governors were
         instructed in their duties. Civil service examination.
         Inauguration of youths into honourable manhood. Travelling
         compulsory in rulers. Postal system—division of the people
         —local magistrates—law speedy. Code of law. Punishment
         without torture. Peruvians and inquisitors. Reports required
         of lands and families. Register of births, &c. Rapidity of
         communication. Plunder not permitted. Peace the motive for
         war. The vanquished incorporated with the victors. A
         paternal government. Peruvian religion. Difference between
         political institutions and priestcraft. Peruvian sun god. An
         invisible God recognised. Priests. Eternal life.      Heaven
         and  Hell.     Temple of the sun magnificent. Golden
         ornaments. Huge urns of silver. Number of priests.
         Festivals. Cannibalism not permitted. Fire made from rays of
         sun and concave mirror, or by friction. Virgins of the sun.
         Concubines of the Inca. Matrimony.    Reflexions.

When the philosopher reads over the histories which adventurous travellers, or Christian missionaries, have given of the religions of the savage, or uncivilized, people whom they have visited, he feels painfully conscious that the accounts are not implicitly to be relied upon. In some he recognizes the fact that communications only take place between the one party and the other by signs, which not only may be, but very generally are, misinterpreted on both sides; in others he is able to see, or, at least, he comes to the conclusion, that the untaught barbarians have not a single idea which is not connected with eating and drinking, war, revenge, and love;—that such, indeed, resemble brute beasts, who have no more conception of hell or heaven, God and the soul, than an elephant has of aerostation, or a crow of theology. In other narratives the observer notices, that the individuals who interrogate the savages are themselves enthusiasts of a high order, who ask leading questions, and are content to receive, as a satisfactory answer, anything which can be considered as a reply. By this means very erroneous ideas have crept in amongst ourselves, and writers have built arguments upon a foundation as flimsy as a shifting sand. For example, I have repeatedly heard it alleged that every known tribe, in every part of the world which has yet been visited, has a tradition respecting an universal deluge, and the salvation of their progenitors by a floating vessel; and on this has been founded the hypothesis that all architecture, and even written characters, have an ark for their type. This development has been very ingeniously supported by J. P. Lesley, in Man's Origin and Destiny (Trubner, London, 1868), a work replete with learning, and bold, but somewhat unsound, deductions. This assumed fact has also been used in support of the Biblical story of Noah, his ark, and the universal deluge—a myth so palpably extravagant, that everyone who professes to credit it is compelled to object to some detail, and to lean upon some frail reed, with the hope that he may thus be pardoned for his credulity. Since the above was written, it has been ascertained that the tale of Noah and his deluge is adapted from an Assyrian or Babylonian legend, written apparently with a view to make a story fitting to the sign of the Zodiac called Aquarius, one to the full as fabulous as that of the birth of Bacchus, and the amours of Zeus.

In some instances, moreover, and palpably in those cases where the account of the religion of barbarous nations is given by fanatics, such as the Roman Catholic invaders of America, or by such conquerors as Cæsar and others, who have themselves very hazy notions of their own faith, the philosopher feels that the savage is intentionally misrepresented; consequently, in these, as in all other instances, it behoves the philosopher to examine the evidence at his command with critical acumen, rather than accept the statements made by more or less careless observers. Endeavouring, therefore, to avoid these difficulties as far as possible, let us summarize the result of our reading, and record the impressions left upon our mind respecting the faith, ritual, and practice of certain modern and ancient barbarians.

Beginning with the vast American continent, we find that the Esquimaux appear to have no conception whatever of a Creator, of a future state, of a mundane theocracy, or of any unseen agency but good or bad "luck." But they, nevertheless, put a certain amount of faith in conjurers—cunning men or women who profess to be able to insure them a good supply of seals or walrus, and protection from Arctic dangers. For such a people as this the wants of the day form the chief, if not the only, object of thought; and they resemble lions or eagles, who are now all but famished in the hunt for food, and now gorged to repletion with the result of their quest. To such a nation, Heaven, as described in the Bible, with its sea of glass, its harpists and singers, would afford no temptation, and, unless it was furnished with abundance of oily food, an Esquimaux would not visit it; nor would the fires and heat of Hell have any terrors for one whose torments on earth are connected with miserable cold. In practice, the Esquimaux are very much what they are made by their neighbours and visitors: they are very decently behaved to those who treat them well, and cruel, barbarous, and revengeful to strangers after they have themselves been worried by invaders. Alternately gluttons and starving they obey the necessities of their existence—they eat to keep themselves warm, and they must be anchorets as rigid as any Theban hermit whilst they are seeking their prey. With a temperature below zero, and winter huts constructed of ice, chastity is almost a necessary virtue, and adultery cannot possibly be frequent. Where everything of value is rare, covetousness is not common; but if the holder of the coveted prize be always alert, it is quite natural that murder shall be attempted, either by the thief or his victim. The reverence of parents here, as elsewhere, is a necessary accompaniment of savage life, and is quite independent of any knowledge of the decalogue. To prevent reiteration of this observation, let us consider for a moment, the chief if not the main cause, of the reverence given to the father, and, more rarely, to the mother in the economy of human life. We see that the Almighty has implanted an instinct in one or both parents, throughout the larger part of the animal creation, to nourish, guide, and teach their young. The duck leads her brood to a pond; the hen keeps her chicks from water, but teaches them to pick up seeds, grubs, and worms; whilst the cock keeps order amongst the family, The weasel teaches its offspring how to attack its prey most advantageously, and the eagle instructs her young ones to fly. In like manner, man is at the head of his own household; he is the first power to which the young ones bow; they know the weight of his arm, and dread his anger, knowing that they will suffer from it when it is stirred up. We all know, as a rule, that a habit contracted in childhood adheres to us throughout life, consequently, the dread of the father which exists in the youth becomes, very generally, filial reverence in the man. But we also know that almost throughout the animal creation, the young and sturdy males will, as they grow up to maturity, fight for supremacy, even with their parents. So long as the latter retain the mastery they are respected; but as soon as age and its accompanying weakness have made them succumb, all filial respect vanishes. If, therefore, a parent, when old, is unable to make himself feared by his prowess, revered for his good sense or knowledge, or beloved for some faculty which makes him pleasing to his family or the tribe, he is neglected, and often sacrificed, so that the young shall have only themselves to provide food for. Even in Christian England, where filial regard is cultivated as an essential part of our religion, we too frequently find that parents are wholly neglected by their adult offspring, as soon as they become, from sickness, age, or other infirmity, useless members of the family.

Without having ever heard of a law, or set of laws, given in a desert from Mount Sinai, the Esquimaux are as moral as modern Christians, and more so than the ancient Jews: they certainly have not more gods than one, and do not worship any graven image. Amongst them blasphemy is unknown. Parents are honoured; chastity is general; murder is very rare; theft only exists when strangers come amongst them with valuable matters, such as cutting weapons. Amongst such a primitive people false witness is unknown, and covetousness only exists in the presence of travellers who have well-stocked ships or sledges. But the Esquimaux do not keep a Sabbath of rest every seventh day; how, indeed, could they, when many of their days have a duration of six weeks—according to the Hebrew computation, which measures the day by sunsets. It is clear, then, that what many persons designate Christian virtues do not necessarily depend upon a knowledge of Jehovah, of Jesus, or of both.

The North American Indian appears to have been, when first discovered, wholly without any distinct religious faith. It is true that some authors have described him as reverencing his manitou, or great spirit, and speaking of some happy hunting ground to which his soul will pass after death; but I am unable to find any reliable testimony in support of this poetic notion. To me it seems that the Red Indian is nothing more than one of a ferocious tribe of men, who, having to subsist by the chase alone, bestows all his thoughts upon getting meat, and driving off his neighbours from interfering in his lands. To such an one a teeming population is equivalent to a diminution in the supply of game, and this, again, involves starvation. With him, therefore, the murder of his neighbours becomes a matter of necessity, one which may be regarded by him as an absolute virtue, a matter of public policy, and essentially a moral duty; and as he is little superior to a tiger or a cat, he does not scruple to add cruelty to homicide. He who has seen a carnivorous beast seize its living prey, disable, without killing it, and then lie by and watch its victim, rising now and again to give it a shake, or a pat with its claw, can well understand how a Blackfoot Indian might gloat over a dying Delaware, or a Mandan torture an Iroquois when he had the chance, each regarding the other as men consider wasps and hornets. Yet, though without religion, the Indian is not without fear. He is terrified by strange noises, and by weird sights; there is a being whom he dreads; and there is in every tribe a "medicine man," who is supposed to have supernatural power, and to be able to attract good or to banish evil fortune from the chief and his people. Practically, the Red Indian is as superstitious about lucky and unlucky days as was the Hebrew David and the Persian Haman, and, prior to the starting of an expedition, the diviner is consulted, who may, possibly, answer in the words of the Lord (?) of Judah, "let it be when thou hearest the sound of a going in the tops of the mulberry trees, then thou shalt bestir thyself, for then shall the Lord go out before thee to smite the host of the Philistines" (2 Sam. v. 24).

But though without religion, in the usual acceptation of the word, the Indians were not, when first the white man knew them, wholly without ritual, or what has been designated a sacred ceremony. The celebration to which we refer occurred every year, was conducted by a definite set of actors, and was attended to with wonderful reverence. A full account of such ceremony is given by G. Catlin, in a work entitled, O Kee Pa (Trübner, London, 1867). In it figures a mystic messenger, who comes to demand the initiation of the young men of the tribe who have attained a fighting age; tents are then prepared, and men and women are duly painted and otherwise disguised to represent buffaloes and bugbears, the bad spirit, etc.; the main intention of the whole being to test the courage, strength, and endurance of the young men by frightful tortures, which are too disgusting for description here. At the end of the trial, however, each votary sacrifices a joint of the little finger of one hand to the bad spirit. At this feast-some doll-like effigies are used to mark the "mystery" tent.

Amongst barbarians like these are, it will readily be imagined that such virtues as chastity and charity have no existence,—that successful theft ennobles the robber, and that the slaughter of an enemy, either by treachery or in fair fight, is regarded as a proof of courage, much as it was amongst the Spartan Greeks. Polygamy is simply a matter of wealth and arrangement, and women are purchased and treated like slaves. It is the man's business to hunt and fight, it is the woman's duty to make the best or the most of the spoils of the chase.

Yet, with this general absence of all religion, there appears to be, here and there, a reverence for certain strange phenomena of nature—such as hot or bubbling fountains, sulphur springs, steaming geysers, and curious rocks, like the celebrated pipe-stone rock in the Sioux territory. From this all pipes ought to be made, there being as much of orthodoxy in such bowls amongst the Indians as there is in an "Agnus Dei" amongst Christian papists. There is, too, a reverence for the dead occasionally to be met with, but it cannot be said to amount to worship. In some instances, but I do not find that the custom is general, a man is interred with his horse, weapons, and medicine bag, as if it was expected that he would live beyond the tomb, and require in his other state of existence that which he wanted in this.

What we have said of the North American aborigines applies with equal, if not with greater, force to those of the South.

From what the savage redskins are, and have been, during the last two or three centuries, a transition to what they have been in the past is very natural; and, whilst making the step, the philosopher will be reminded of the observation made by some profound observer, to the effect—-"go where you will, no matter how savage the nation, you will be sure to find the remains of a previous empire, nation, or civilization." Vast forests, scarcely yet fully explored, cover ancient cities in Ceylon and Central America alike, and men, who toiled to build vast temples, towers, palaces, and fortresses, are replaced by wild animals. In the Bashan of Palestine, primeval houses of stone still stand, where scarcely a resident is to be found, and the present inhabitants are far inferior to the ancient race that built these enduring dwellings. Thus the Abbé Domenech writes (Seven Years Residence in the Great Deserts of North America, London, Longman, 1860), vol. I., p. 353—"From Florida to Canada, from the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean, the American soil is strewn with gigantic ruins of temples, tumuli, entrenched camps, fortifications, towers, villages, towers of observation, gardens, wells, artificial meadows, and high roads of the most remote antiquity."

Without entering closely into the nature of the antiquities discovered, we may state that they comprise pyramids, cones, obelisks, hills surrounded by a deep vallum, like that adjoining Salisbury, and earthen constructions analogous to that at Avebury. There is evidence that the artificial erections, which were so built as to be visible from an enormous distance, were designed, possibly, as cairns, or memorials of the dead, but also as spots for sacrificial offerings, resembling those called high places in Ancient Palestine, the tumulus over Patroclus, and the Scythian mounds in the Crimea. The altars which have been discovered are made of baked clay or stone, and have the shape of large basins, varying in length from nineteen inches to seventeen yards, but generally about two yards and a-half. Under and around the altars calcined human bones were found, and sometimes a whole skeleton was met with in the tumulus, as if a sacrifice of men attended the funeral rites, as we learn from Homer that it did, before Troy, when Achilles directed the obsequies of his friend Patroclus. Cremation, as well as sepulture, was adopted, and with the dead, ornaments, arms, and other objects, which belonged in life to the departed, were buried; amongst these are to be reckoned trinkets of silver and of brass, as well as of stone and bone. As a proof of the advanced knowledge of the people referred to, I may here quote, from memory, a note from Stevens' Central America, to the effect that the bronze tools found in Yucatan, &c., amongst the quarries whence the stone for the ancient temples was procured, are nearly as hard as steel, and that a similar bronze is only known to have existed in some of the ancient tombs and quarries of Egypt, an observation which receives additional value from Domenech's remark, vol. I., p. 364—"These works of art (arms, idols, and medals, found in New Granada tombs) are acknowledged, by the archaeologists of Panama, to possess the characteristics of both Chinese and Egyptian art." Here, again, I would call my readers' attention to the facts, that in very modern times Chinese have migrated to California, Australia, Singapore, and other distant localities, and that Fortune found Egyptian curiosities in virtù, shops in China, whilst Egyptologists have discovered Chinese manufactures in Egyptian tombs. The subject of the extent of travel in ancient times does not enter into my present plan; but as I am desirous to make the mind of my readers expansive enough to receive everything which bears upon the history of man upon the earth, I may be allowed to sow seed by the way-side, some of which may blossom as "a garden flower grown wild." Domenech, in p. 408, vol. I., figures a remarkable stone, by many persons supposed to be a hoax or forgery, which was found at the base of one of the largest mounds in North America, situated in Western Virginia. It lay in a sepulchral chamber, thirty-five feet from the surface, was elliptic in shape, two inches and a-half long, two wide, and about half an inch thick, and the material was of a dark colour, and very hard. The following is a copy from Domenech's work, and, without dwelling upon it, we may call attention to the similarity of some of the letters with those known to, or used by the Phoenicians, Ancient Greco-Italians, and Carthaginians. Like the Newton Stone, in Scotland, and some Gnostic gems, it may be said to be learned "gibberish," which "the spirits" can read but no one else.

There is, indeed, much more evidence than is generally supposed to connect the ancient mound-builders in America with the inhabitants of the Eastern Hemisphere, particularly in their modes of burial, the nature of their earthworks, and the style of such ornaments and figures as have been found. For example, there is one enclosure described, in the centre of which is erected a mound and pillar, precisely resembling the linga yoni of the East. In addition to these, carved stones have been found, which unite together such Oriental emblems as the sun and moon, the Tau, T and the egg, O which together make the well-known Egyptian symbol A. Again, Domenech figures some male and female human effigies, of whom American savans write that they represent idols of sexual design, similar to those exposed in the Mysteries of Eleusis, one of them being a badly finished image of Priapus. Domenech still farther states, on the authority of Cortez, that a form of worship, recalling the Egyptian mysteries of Isis and Osiris, was established in America.

Respecting the nature of the religion of the mound builders the Abbé writes—"The government of these nations appears to have been theocratic or sacerdotal, like that of the Jews, and the religious administrative and military power was, probably, vested in one and the same person. This is clearly evinced by the taboo, or sacred monuments, being combined with those of a purely military character," p. 366. Without straining doubtful points too far, we may content ourselves with affirming that the researches of Davis and Squire, of Stephens, and of Domenech, show that the mound builders of America raised high places for sacrificial fires; that they built huge piles of earth over dead warriors; and, that during the funeral rites which were observed at the obsequies, they immolated certain human victims.

Let us now pause for a moment and consider how much is involved in the practice of making a sacrifice by fire, or otherwise, at the burial of any deceased chieftain or honoured man. With what idea could the living wife join her husband on the funeral pyre in India, or the ancient Tartars have slain the horse, slaves, wives, and chief officers of a defunct king, burying them all in a vast grave, unless they entertained the belief that there was a life beyond the grave? The faith may have been of the crudest form, yet the practice evidenced the belief that those who died, and were buried together, would arise and live at the same time and place, and in the same relative positions which they had during life. If this be granted, it demonstrates that the early dwellers in America had a higher conception of immortality than had the ancient Jews, even although the latter assumed, and pertinaciously persisted in the assertion, that they, and they only of all the nations of the world, were taught of God—a boast to which a vast number of thoughtless Christians give a profound reverence, and most implicit belief.

Without speculating upon the probable connexion between the mound-builders and the inhabitants of ancient Mexico, we will endeavour, with the aid of Prescott, and other writers, to ascertain something of the faith professed by Montezuma and his subjects. Derived from two sources, there were two distinct elements in the Mexican religion; one of these was gentle and mild as the teaching of Christ, and the other, ferocious and cruel, like the practice of such of his followers as the sensual Crusaders, the persecuting Popes of Italy, and the brutal, money-grubbing Spaniards. The former gradually dried up, like primitive Christianity, and the harmlessness of the dove was replaced by the ferocity of the wolf. It is in strict accordance with human nature, that virtues are harder to maintain than vices, hence malignancy swelled itself up and became dominant. The priests of the sanguinary class contrived as burdensome a ceremonial as ever existed in Judea, Greece, Spain, or Modern Rome, and they surrounded their deities with conceptions as grotesque as those which are clustered round the Hindoo gods of to-day, the divinities of the Greeks and Romans, and the innumerable virgins, saints, and martys of mediaeval and modern papal Christianity. The power and the inclination to make fetish is certainly not confined to African negroes. The Mexicans recognized a supreme Creator as the God by whom we live, one who was, for them, omnipresent and omniscient—the giver of all good things, "without whom man is as nothing." He was said to be "invisible, incorporeal, a being of absolute perfection and perfect purity," "under whose wings men may find repose and a sure defence." But this deity, though single, was subdivided by the Mexican theologians, much in the same way as Jehovah became separated into an innumerable host of angels, archangels, and devils, and as Zeus was split up into an equally numerous army of gods, goddesses, and demigods. The Mexicans had thirteen major, and about two hundred minor, divinities, to one or other of whom each day was devoted, much in the same way as certain modern Christians believe in one Creator, four persons, three of whom are male and the other female, seven archangels, and some hundreds of saints, virgins, or martyrs, to each of whom one day of the year is consecrated. There are more gods and goddesses in the Papal calendar than in that of Ancient Mexico, Greece, or even Rome.

At the head of the celestial army was "the god of war," "the patron of the kingdom," whose temples were more noble in their barbaric majesty than any other, and to whom human beings were sacrificed in abundance. They were the noblest creatures that could be found, and in truth, there were very few other animals to offer in their place.

This great Mexican divinity was essentially the same as the Jehovah Tsebaoth of the Hebrew Scriptures; the Lord of Hosts of whom we read in Exod. xv. 3, "The Lord (Jehovah) is a man of war, the Lord (Jehovah) is His name;" and in Ps. xxiv. 8, "Who is this King of glory?—the Lord, strong and mighty; the Lord, mighty in battle;" and again, the same idea appears in verse 10 of the same Psalm; see also 1 Chron. xvii. 24, "The Lord of Hosts is the God of Israel." Indeed, we should weary the reader if we were to quote all the texts to be found in the Old Testament, which prove that the Hebrew Jehovah was as much a god of war as was the chief deity of the Mexicans. Modern civilization may frame the belief that God is not "the author of confusion, but of peace" (1 Cor. xiv. 33); but the Hebrews in the East, and the Mexicans in the West, held a different opinion. Besides the god of war there was a god of the air, who once lived on earth, and taught metallurgy, agriculture, and the art of government. He was essentially a human benefactor, who caused the earth to teem with fruit and flowers, without the trouble of laborious cultivation—his reign was analogous to the golden age of the Greeks and Romans. But he was not wholly satisfactory, and was banished; yet he is to have a second coming, like Elias, and a modern deity of the Eastern world. His portrait is identical, apparently, with the commonly received likeness of Jesus. In Christian mythology (see Eph. ii. 2), "the prince of the power of the air" is regarded as "the adversary," or a devil. No other deities are described in detail by Prescott, but he says that every household had its "penates," or household gods. On turning to Higgins, who quotes entirely from Lord Kingsborough's Mexican Antiquities, we find that the Mexicans baptized their children with what they called "water of regeneration." Their king also danced before his god, as David did, to his chaste wife's disgust, and was consecrated and anointed by the high priest with a holy unction as Saul and the son of Jesse were. On one day of the year all the fires in the Mexican kingdom were extinguished and lighted again from one sacred hearth in the temple, which again reminds us of the Vestal Virgins, whose business was to keep up a holy fire in Rome, and of the lamp which was to burn perpetually in the Jewish temple (Exod. xxvii. 20). At the end of October the Mexicans had a feast resembling our "All Souls," or "Saints," day, which was called "the festival of advocates," because each human being had an advocate in the heaven above to plead for him, which again reminds us of Jesus' dictum, that children have guardian angels, who are always in God's presence (Matt, xviii. 10)

The same people had a forty-days' fast, in honour of a god who was tempted forty days upon a mountain, and thus resembled the Prophet of Nazareth. He was called the morning star, and thus is to be identified with Lucifer as well as Jesus (Isa. xiv. 12, Rev. xxii. 16), and carried a reed for an emblem (see Eev. xxi. 15). The Mexicans honoured a cross, and the god of air was represented sometimes as nailed to one, and even occasionally between two other individuals.*

         * As we cannot imagine that the Mexicans were aware of the
         manner in which modern Christians depict Jesus on the cross,
         we most, I think, seek for some idea which was common to
         both the East and West. In Payne Knight's work, so often
         referred to by us, there is a picture which represents a
         cock with a lingam instead of a head and beak; on its
         pediment there is in Greek the words, soteer kosmou, "the
         saviour of the world." This is also an epithet of Siva, and
         he is sometimes represented as a phallus. In this he is the
         Asher or Bel of the Assyrian triad, erected higher than the
         other two. In Christian history the outsiders are said to be
         thieves, but it was not so in Mexico.    The three crosses
         are simply emblems of the "trinity."

A virgin and child were also adored, as they were in Babylonia, Assyria, Egypt, and Hindostan, and as they are in a great part of Europe at the present time. The people believed in vast cycles of years, at the end of each of which there was to be a general destruction of life, and a perfect regeneration, an idea which Higgins has shown to have existed amongst Persians, Romans, and Jews alike. The Mexicans still further believed in a threefold future state—a heaven for the brave, and those who were sacrificed, there being, so far as I can discover, no abstract idea of what we call "virtue"; a hell for the wicked; and a sort of quiet limbo for those who were in no way distinguished. Heaven was located in the sun, and the blessed were permitted to revel amongst lovely clouds and singing birds, enjoying, unharmed, all the charms of nature: a conception which is to the full as poetical, and, probably, quite as near the truth, as that given in "Revelation." When a man died he was burned, and, if rich, his slaves were sacrificed with him, the Mexicans, in this respect, resembling the ancient Scythians, with whom they had much in common. When the ceremony of giving a name to children was gone through, their lips and bosom were sprinkled with water, and the Lord was implored to permit the holy drops to wash away the sin that was given to the child before the foundation of the world, so that the infant might be born anew, or, in modern terms, regenerated (Prescott, ch. 3). Amongst their prayers, or invocations, were the formulas, "Wilt Thou blot us out, O Lord, for ever? Is this punishment intended, not for our reformation, but for our destruction?" again, "Impart to us, out of Thy great mercy, Thy gifts which we are not worthy to receive through our own merits;" "Keep peace with all;" "Bear injuries with humility, God who sees will avenge you;" "He who looks too curiously on a woman commits adultery with eyes." These Mexican maxims so closely resemble those to be found in the Bible, that it is difficult to believe that the Spaniards really told the truth respecting them. The sacerdotal order amongst the Mexicans was a numerous one, well arranged and powerful. The priests used musical choirs in their worship, arranged the calendar, and appointed the time for festivals. They superintended the education of youth, and wrote up the traditions, like the "recorders" of the Jews, Persians, other Orientals, and Christian monks, and looked to the conservancy of the hieroglyphic paintings. There were two high priests, who alone had to undertake the duty of offering human sacrifices, and these were elected by the king and nobles, quite irrespective of previous rank, and, when elected, they were inferior only to the sovereign. When reading this, anyone who is familiar with biblical history will bethink him of Luke iii. 3, "Annas and Caiaphas being the high priests," the plural, not the singular, number being used, and of the dictum of Caiaphas, John xi. 50, "It is expedient for us that one man should die for the people, that the whole nation perish not." We may put what construction we please upon these facts, but, whatever interpretation we may adopt, we must acknowledge that the Hebrews, at the time when our era commences, had two high priests who were concerned in human sacrifice.

The priests, in general, were devoted to the service of some particular deity, and, during the time of their attendance, lived in the temple, celibate; but, when not on duty, they resided with their wives and families. Thrice during the day, and once at some period of the night, they were called to prayer, much like all the varieties of Christian monks and nuns. They were frequent in their ablutions, in which habit they may be contrasted with those saintly hermits, who regarded dirt as a divine ordinance, and never washed; and they mortified the flesh by long vigils, fasting, and cruel penance, drawing blood from their bodies by flagellation, or by piercing them with the thorns of the aloe. The resemblance of the Mexican sacerdotalism with Jewish and Christian customs is thus shown to be wonderful and striking, so much so, that the Spaniards started the idea that they had been taught by some stray apostle of Jesus. The great cities of Mexico were divided into districts, each of which was placed under the charge of a sort of parochial clergy, who regulated every act of religion within their precincts, and who administered the rites of confession and absolution. The secrets of the confessional were held inviolable, and penances were imposed, of much the same kind as those enjoined by the Roman Catholic Church upon her votaries.

It was a tenet of Mexican faith, that a sin once atoned for, was, if repeated, inexpiable a second time; consequently, confession was only once resorted to, and that late in life; a good plan, upon the whole, for it enabled a man whose days were numbered to get pardon "for good and aye." It was also held that sacerdotal absolution was equivalent to magisterial punishment. The formula of absolution contained this, amongst other things, "O merciful Lord, Thou who knowest the secrets of all hearts, let Thy forgiveness and favour descend, like the pure waters of heaven, to wash away the stains from the soul. Thou knowest that this poor man has sinned, not from his own free will, but from the influence of the sign under which he was born." This idea may well be compared with the current doctrine of the phrenologists, many of whom assert that a man acts according to the configuration of his brain and cranium, and is, therefore, only partially culpable for the commission of certain crimes. After a copious exhortation to the penitent, in which he was enjoined to undergo a variety of mortifications, and to perform minute ceremonies, by way of penance, he was particularly urged to procure, with the smallest possible delay, a slave, who was to be utilized in sacrifice to the Deity; the priest then concluded with inculcating charity to the poor—"Clothe the naked, and feed the hungry, whatever privations it may cost thee, for remember their flesh is like thine."

The necessity of sacrifice, as an atonement for sin, forms an essential, though bloody, part of both the Hebrew and the Christian faiths, and history has long taught us that the slaughter of a man, woman, or child, formed, in the estimation of the Ancient Greeks, and other nations, one of the most acceptable of the forms of homage paid by a human being to the Creator. This idea is at the very basis of the Christian theology. It has been held, from the time of the apostle Paul to the present day, that Jehovah would not look favourably upon mankind until He had been propitiated, not by the sacrifice of an ordinary individual, but by the murder, in the crudest of modes, of a being whom He personally begat, for the purpose of killing him when arrived at maturity. In Hebrews x. 12, we find this doctrine very distinctly enunciated, in the words, "this man, after he had offered one sacrifice of sins for ever, sat down on the right hand of God," and subsequently, v. 14, "by one offering he hath perfected for ever them that are sanctified." Again, in Heb. ix. 26, "once in the end of the world hath he appeared to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself;" and in Heb. x. 10, "we are sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ;" and in ix. 28, "Christ was once offered to bear the sins of many." The philosopher may doubt whether the God whom the Christians have made for their own adoration, is in any way different to that of King Mesha, who offered up his own son in sacrifice, or to the Mexican one, who was contented with the blood of a slave.*

         * It is doubtful whether any Christian has ever paid real
         attention to the doctrines which are familiar to his ear, or
         to the hymns which an most frequently on his tongue. In the
         usual fashion which is prevalent amongst ministers and
         hearers, everything which is told by missionaries of heathen
         deities is taken as true. Thus it has become the general
         belief that the Mexican theology, which required an annual
         sacrifice of human beings, whose hearts were cut out, and
         offered warm, palpitating and full of blood, to a God who
         was supposed to be present in a sacred stone statue, was
         beyond measure atrocious. But in what consists the horror,
         unless in the fact that the sacrifice was seen by the
         worshippers? In Christendom people are never called upon to
         see a man killed by nailing him to a cross. If they were
         condemned to this penance, very little would any of them
         talk of blood. As it is, the minds of the majority are
         lulled to sleep by the substitution of words for facts, and
         texts of Scripture for ideas; and those who are unable to
         look upon a cut finger without fainting, and would not for
         worlds go to see a man decapitated, talk in the serenest
         manner on most sanguinary topics. A reference to a few hymns
         which are general favourites will illustrate what I mean. In
         "Rock of Ages," for example, we have the lines—

         "Let the water and the blood
         From thy riven side that flowed,
         Cleanse from sin and make me pure."

         Another equally popular hymn begins

         "From Calv'ry's cross a fountain flows
         Of water and of blood,
         More healing than Bethesda's pool,
         Redeeming Lord, thy precious blood
         Shall never lose its power..." and again—

         "There is a fountain filled with blood,
         Drawn from Immanuels veins,
         And sinners plunged beneath that flood
         Lose all their guilty stains."

         No congregation of Christian, or any other men, would
         tolerate for a moment the introduction into divine worship
         of a bath of blood, into which all those should plunge who
         desired salvation. Not one would endeavour to wash his sins
         away in a sanguine stream, drawn from any source whatever.
         The horror which would be produced by the doctrine that such
         things are necessary to appease our God, would make every
         thinking being detest it. Yet, when we only play with the
         idea, we can talk of such matters with holy complacency. If
         any Christian wants to test his faith, let me advise him to
         get a basinful of blood and place it in his bed-room, and
         say twice a day, when looking on it, that's the stuff which
         propitiates my God! It would not be long ere he saw the
         absurdity of his theological tenets, and the coarseness of
         the hierarchy which invented so frightful an idea of the
         Omnipotent.

For the education of the youth of Mexico a part of the temples was allotted, where the boys and girls of the middle and higher classes were placed at an early period—the girls to be taught by the priestesses, the boys by priests; and from a note in Prescott's corrected edition, 1866, p. 22, we learn that the former were even more generally pure in life than, we have reason to believe, the Egyptian priestesses and Christian nuns proved themselves to be, Father Acosto saying, "In truth, it is very strange to see that this false opinion of religion hath so great force amongst these young men and maidens of Mexico, that they will serve the Devil with so great vigour and austerity, which many of us do not in the service of the most high God, the which is a great shame and confusion." It is curious to notice how the Christian priest considers that chastity may be a snare of the Devil, as well as an ordinance of Jehovah. The boys, in these scholastic parts of the sacred temples, were taught the routine of monastic discipline—to decorate the shrines of the gods with flowers, to feed the sacred fires, and to chant in worship and at festivals. The Abbé Hue, in an account of his travels in Thibet and Tartary, has told us repeatedly of the similarity between the rites, practices, and ceremonies of the Romish Church and those in use amongst the followers of the Great Lama. It is equally marvellous to discover that the Mexican ritual resembles both. The Papalist endeavours to explain this, by the monstrous assumption that both Tartary and Mexico were evangelized by two different Christian Apostles. But it seems to us more probable that the Romanists, who are known to have adopted almost every ancient ceremony, symbol, doctrine, and the like, have unknowingly copied from travelled Orientals, than that the cult of the people of Thibet has travelled into America, as well as into Europe. Into the identity of the Tartars with the Red Indians it is not my intention to enter. The higher Mexicans were taught traditionary lore, the mysteries of hieroglyphics, the principles of government, and such astronomical and scientific knowledge as the priests would, or, probably, could, impart. The girls learned to weave and embroider coverings for the altars of the gods. Great attention was paid to morality, and offences were punished with extreme rigour, even with death itself. Youths were taught to eschew, vice and cleave to virtue, to abstain from wrath, to offer violence or do wrong to no man, and to do good where possible.

When of an age to marry, the pupils were dismissed from the convent, and the recommendation of the principal thereof often introduced those whom he regarded as the most competent of the students, to responsible situations in public life. Such was the policy of the Mexican priests, who were thus enabled to mould the mind of the young, and to train it early to the necessity of giving reverence to religion, and especially to its ministers—a reverence which maintained its hold on the warrior long after every other vestige of education had been effaced. In this matter America showed an astuteness equal to that exhibited by Papal hierarchs in Rome.

To each of the principal temples, lands were annexed, for the maintenance of the priests, and these glebes were augmented by successive princes, until, under Montezuma, they were of enormous extent, and covered every district of the* empire. The priests took the management of their property into their own hands, and treated their tenants with liberality and indulgence. In addition to this source of income, they had "first fruits," and other offerings, dictated by piety or superstition. The surplus was distributed in alms amongst the poor, a duty strenuously prescribed by their moral code. Thus we find, adds Prescott, whom we are closely, and almost verbatim, following, the same religion inculcating lessons of pure philanthropy and of merciless extermination—an inconsistency not incredible to those familiar with the history of the Roman Catholic Church in the early ages of the Inquisition.

In the course of a not very long life, I have heard, upon many occasions, the argument that the persistency of the Roman Catholic Church, in spite of its abominable corruptions, its utter contempt for truth, its outrageous cruelty, its glaring superstition, its intolerable arrogance, and its rapacious covetousness, proves that it is, and must ever be regarded as a divine institution. But this argument loses all its weight when we find that the religion of the Mexicans, which the Spaniards declared to have sprung from the Devil, had the virtues, as well as many vices, of the Roman faith. If one came from Heaven, the other could not have come from Hell. The simple truth seems to be, that crafty and designing men are always able to find dupes, and that red men and black, the haughty Italian and the lively Frenchman, the stolid boor and the polished orator, may all suffer alike from an education which has taught them, in youth, to believe in the reality of a revelation given to a class of human beings who, by its means, assume to be divine.

The Mexican temples—teocallis, or "houses of God "—were very numerous, indeed there were several hundreds in each of the principal cities of the kingdom; but we need not describe them more minutely than to say that they were truncated pyramids terminating in a level surface, upon which blazed the sacred fire. All religious services were public, as in Roman Catholic countries. There were long processions of priests, and numerous festivals of unusual sacredness, as well as monthly and daily appropriate celebrations of worship, so that it is difficult to conceive how the ordinary business of life was carried on. The sun was an universal object of reverence. At a period not long prior (about 200 years) to the Spanish conquest, human sacrifices were adopted for the first time, and they speedily became common, both as regards repetition and the numbers of victims slaughtered. In some instances the oblations terminated with cannibalism. The burnt offering was roasted, not incinerated, and, like the Paschal lamb, was devoutly devoured. Sexual rites, symbols, or worship, appear to have been very rare, for I can only find one or two doubtful references to them. In this matter the Mexicans were far superior to all the old Shemitic and Egyptian, as well as the Hindoo, races. So far Prescott.

Whilst writing the foregoing, it has required some determination not to comment very extensively upon the facts recorded, for they do, indeed, set the thoughtful mind on fire. Amongst the questions which they provoke, the first is, "how far the accounts given to us are to be depended upon?" In answering this query, we readily recognize that our authorities can only have been Spaniards, who were, to a great extent, implacable enemies of the Mexicans, to a great extent ignorant of their language, and bitterly hostile to them in matters of religion. But this recognition leads us to trust the accounts which they give, for, if the invaders had been able to treat the natives as unmitigated savages, they would have had the more excuse for pillaging their sacred stores, temples, and palaces, and exterminating the pagan worshippers. Again, if the picture thus painted were a fancy one, having no real existence save in the mind of the writer, we should be able readily to recognize its counterpart in the Spanish history of the Peruvians, just as we are able to ascertain the identity of the authorship of certain anonymous works by Lord Lytton, by the existence therein of his marked peculiarity of style. The best testimony, however, to the substantial truth of the accounts given of the nature of the Mexican faith, is to be found in various minute episodes of their general history, in the behaviour of the Aztecs with each other, and towards their invaders, and the general customs which are recorded. That the Spanish writers had a real belief in the account of which Prescott has given us so admirable a resume, we may feel assured, for one of them introduced the naïve remark, "that the Devil had positively taught to the Mexicans the same things which God had taught to Christendom."

When once we have satisfied ourselves of the truth of the Spanish accounts of the ancient Mexican institutions, we find ourselves in the presence of some very striking religious and political facts. We see before us a nation who had attained to as distinct a conception of the Almighty as we have ourselves; who had discovered a heaven, a hell, and an intermediate place, without the assistance of Jew or Greek, Babylonian or Persian; who had instituted a sacerdotal class, and made provision for their subsistence, without any assistance from Melchizedek or Moses; who had adopted a principle of national education long before such a thing was thought of in England, or in Europe. In fine, the Aztec faith and policy were, at least, as praiseworthy, if not far nearer to perfection, than the faith and policy which obtained in Christian Italy, France, and Spain, during the dark and the middle ages. There is not, indeed, any one point in which the contrast is not favourable to the Aztecs, except in the single point of human sacrifice. Christianity can, apparently, make a heavy accusation against the Aztec religion on this point, and may fairly seem to reproach it for that frequency of human sacrifice, and even cannibalism, which formed, at the time of the Spanish conquest, an essential part of the Mexican faith.

Yet, when we dive below the surface, and examine this matter with philosophic care, we readily see that the charge is deprived of much of its weight. Who, for example, can compare the practice of the people of Montezuma with that of Spaniards under the sway of Ferdinand and Isabella, without seeing that in Spain there were human sacrifices, which were conducted with far more cruelty than those in Mexico. We find, in the first place, that the custom of sacrificing human beings was no more an essential part of the Aztec, than it was of the Christian, faith; it was only in existence two hundred years before the Spanish invasion, and many centuries, bloodless of human offerings, had passed away ere the period of what we may term brutality arrived. Just so it was with the religion of Jesus; for centuries it was unstained by blood, and comparatively meek and humble, yet, when its priesthood rose to power, they indulged in human holocausts on a most extended scale. The Spaniards give accounts of thousands of victims offered up at once to the Mexican god of war; but what are these in comparison to the victims of Paris, sacrificed by Papists on the eve and day of St. Bartholomew, and those at Beziers.

It may be doubted by the philosopher whether the Christian religion was not, from its very commencement, as intolerant of opposition and as persecuting as it became hereafter.

The story of Jesus cursing a fig tree, which did not bear fruit out of its season (Mark xi. 13, 14, 21), shows that even he, whom the Christians take for an example, was quite capable of that pettiness, which visits upon the innocent the vexation felt by one's self. But when we read the story in Acts, v., about Ananias and Sapphira, we see, in all its naked horror, a fearful Christian persecution. The victims were done to death for deceiving an apostle. But why should we be surprised at the followers of "the Son" doing that which "the Father" ordained? Is there any human king who ever promulgated a more bloody order than did Jehovah Sabaoth, the God which, amongst the Hebrews, corresponded to the Mexican god of war, when he commissioned Samuel to say to Saul (1 Sam. xv. 3), "Now go and smite Amalek, and utterly destroy all that they have; slay both man and woman, infant and suckling, ox and sheep, camel and ass!" After such a destruction of the Midianites as is narrated in Numb, xxxi., the fearful slaughter, effected by Crusaders, of Jews, Turks, and heretics is scarcely worth mentioning.

There was a teacher who remarked, "he who is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone" at the culprit; and surely, when our Bible, which is treasured by so many as the only rule of faith amongst us, details such horrible religious slaughters as are to be found in its pages, and abounds with persecuting precepts, we had better not talk too much about Mexican sacrifice. Was there any Aztec minister so brutal in his religious fury as Samuel was (1 Sam. xv. 33), who hewed Agag into pieces? The Mexican was merciful to his victim; the Hebrew was like a modern Chinese executioner, who kills the criminal by degrees. His cruelty has been emulated in Christian France, and under the reign of two of her kings, we have seen a Ravaillac and Damiens tortured slowly to death, by means too horrible to dwell upon.

The writers upon Mexico tell us of a lovely youth, who was educated for a whole year to become a victim, and how, at the end of that time, he was feted, adorned, and even worshipped; how four of the most charming maidens of Mexico were selected as his wives, and how he remained in the enjoyment of the highest honour until the time of his sacrifice arrived, and we feel due horror at the recital. Yet, what is it compared with the accounts we read of miserable men and women racked, in hideous dungeons, by the most horrible tortures which an enlightened Christian ingenuity could devise, and who then, with limbs whose loosened fibres could scarcely sustain their bruised and mangled bodies, were led, or driven at the sword's point, to a stake fixed in the ground, there to be tied and burned, whilst devout Christian multitudes stood around, rejoicing, like demons, over the hellish scene.

No one can gloat over the imaginary torments of Hell without being a persecuting devil at heart.

Surely the Christians have too much sin amongst themselves to cast a stone at the inhabitants of Mexico.

We find a strong offset to the horror of Aztec cruelty in the very Bible, which we regard as the mainstay of our religious world. What, for example, is the essential difference between a Mexican monarch sacrificing one or ten thousand men taken in battle, and Moses commanding the extermination of the inhabitants of Canaan, and only saving, out of Midian, thirty-two thousand virgins, that they might minister to the lust of his Hebrew followers? What, again, are we to say of David's God, who would not turn away his anger from Judah until seven sons of the preceding king had been offered up as victims? And lastly—thought still more awful! what must we say of the fundamental doctrines of Christianity, that Jehovah Himself sacrificed His own Son by a cruel death; and not only so, but that He had intercourse with an earthly woman, and had thus a son by her, for the sole purpose of bringing about his murder? Can we object to religious cannibalism in the Aztec, when Jesus of Nazareth is said to have urged his followers to eat his body and to drink his blood; and when hundreds of priests have shed the blood of millions of men, who, disbelieving the power of any man to convert bread and wine into flesh and blood, have refused to profane their lips by a cannibal feast?

Having now examined the nature of the Aztec faith, let us, for a while, linger upon the fruits which it produced. Who can read the mournful story of the fall of Mexico without contrasting, in his own mind, the respective characters of the conquerors and the conquered? In every so-called Christian virtue Montezuma proved himself to be superior to the lying, unscrupulous, rapacious and covetous Cortez. Even the greatest fire-eater who ever lived cannot fail to see that the Spaniard would not have been victorious over the Mexican, if the latter had been equally well equipped with arms, armour, and horses, as the former was. We can only tell vaguely what was the condition of Anahuac prior to the invasion of Cortez; but, from the testimony given by Prescott, we believe that there were annual wars between adjoining tribes, who met solely to obtain from their enemies victims for sacrifice, the battles always ending with the day, and never being resumed for conquest, or for the plunder of maidens to be an indulgence of a victor's lust. What the condition of the same country under Christian rule has been, and still is, every reader of modern and contemporary history knows; and he sees, with regret, that Jehovah Sabaoth, Jesus of Nazareth, and the Holy Spirit, with an army of saints, angels, virgins, and martyrs, as well as ancient gods of the Eastern Hemisphere are, if they are to be judged by the acts of their worshippers, as cruel, revengeful, and malignant, as were the deities of the Mexican kingdom.

The followers of the cross will appear to be quite as despicable when we contrast them with the Peruvians, as they were when compared with the inhabitants of Anahuac.

There is something very fascinating in the history of Peru, as recorded by the Spanish authors, and rendered into the English language by Prescott. There is no account of ancient or modern people extant which has interested me so much as those of the realm of Manco Capac. To hear of a nation, separated by an ocean, we may, indeed, say two, and a vast continent, from the civilized portions of Asia, Europe, and Africa, located in a mountainous tract, where soil and water were scanty, and locomotion was rendered difficult from the configuration of the land; whose country was surrounded by strong natural enemies of all kinds; whose people were unable to use such agents as steel and gunpowder, and who were yet enabled to construct vast cities and temples, to quarry, remove, and use in buildings, fragments of rock thirty-eight feet long, eighteen feet broad, and six feet thick, and to transport these to distances varying from 12 to 45 miles, to form good roads along the mountain tops, for an extent of nearly two thousand miles, necessitating the filling up chasms of enormous depth, and the making of suspension bridges over rivers whose stream was too furious to bridge in the ordinary European fashion, is perfectly astonishing.

The far-sighted Incas, to make these roads still more useful, accompanied them by the erection of large residences, like modern European bungalows in India, fit for the reception of a monarch with his army, and by vast magazines of provisions, sufficient to supply the wants of a warlike expedition, or of a population starving from an accidental failure of crops. The Peruvians, moreover, surrounded their chief towns with strong walls, in comparison with which the Cyclopean constructions of the old world seem small, stunted, and almost contemptible. It appears, in addition, that they knew how to form long tunnels, either for the passage of troops, for the benefit of travellers, or for the conveyance of water. All these, I say, are enough to fire the imagination of the dullest reader of history, and to shake the belief that civilization cannot be developed in the midst of what we have been accustomed to call savage life, and can only be brought to a moderate perfection by the influence of the Hebrew and Christian writings.

Our wonder is not, however, bounded by the physical results produced by the industrious population of Peru, it is still farther exercised by the descriptions which are given of their wonderful domestic and foreign policy. It would be difficult to conceive, and still more difficult to carry into execution for many generations, a plan of government so eminently fitted to give the greatest happiness to the greatest number, as that which the Incas elaborated. The rulers were specially educated to fulfil their duties in every respect, and were not permitted, as modern princes are, to enter into the ranks of chivalry until they had undergone a public examination, which was conducted by the oldest and the most illustrious chiefs. The trial included tests of every warlike and manly quality. It lasted thirty days, during which time every competitor fared alike, living on the bare ground, and wearing a mean attire. Those who passed the ordeal honourably were admitted formally into the knightly order, the ceremony including an investiture of the youth with sandals put on by the most venerable noble, equivalent to the donning of the toga virilis in Ancient Rome, and having the ear pierced with a golden bodkin by the reigning monarch. To take off the shoe was a ceremony exacted from all those who came into the Inca's presence, to have it put on by a grandee was great honour.

That the rulers might understand the condition of the kingdom, they systematically travelled, much in the same way as James V. of Scotland, and the Caliph Haroun Alraschid, are said to have done. The Incas, in addition to their other plans for good government, inaugurated a postal system: divided their peoples into tens, fifties, hundreds, five hundreds, thousands, and ten thousands, much in the same way as the Saxon King Alfred is said to have done, whose plan is, in many respects, conserved to the present day; and the head man of each division was in all respects its ruler, to repress crime, to announce to his superior officer all unusual occurrences, and to report, generally, the actual state of his division to the chief above him. All legal trials, or appeals, were decided in less than five days, and a code was established, which all might readily know, a thing only attained by the French under the first Napoleon, and long desired by England, but in vain. Punishments were never attended with torture, or unnecessary cruelty. In this respect the Peruvians differed from every other civilized nation of which I have yet read. The Chinaman methodically inflicts painful punishments which have only been surpassed by the followers of the "gentle Jesus." The Persians and Turks have, certainly, shown their capacity for giving pain to those who are brought before their ministers of justice, and the Red Indians, during their day, reduced the art of tormenting themselves, but, still more, their prisoners, almost to perfection. The Babylonians had discovered that a death of agony could be accomplished by means of myriads of ants. It was reserved to Christians, eager to uphold the faith promulgated by a God of mercy, to find out the most exquisite of torments. Even Frenchmen, who have for centuries assumed the position of leaders of civilization, were, until the great Revolution beat down their kings and prelates, more ruthlessly cruel than the most fierce redskin. The Inquisition, which arrogated to itself the power to keep the Christian religion pure, was distinguished by the atrocity with which it gave anguish to its victims, and it held its head high until it was put down, we may hope for ever, by fiery republican enthusiasts, whom priestly demons, baulked of their prey, declared to be devils incarnate. More modern hierarchs are obliged to content themselves with making a hell for their enemies—with foretelling a variety of punishments to be inflicted hereafter, which cannot be enforced here.

The Incas exacted an annual report of the lands possessed by individuals, with their condition as regards culture; and also of every family. A register of births, marriages, and deaths was regularly kept, so that the government might always know the real condition of the nation, soil, and people.

As far as possible, families remained constant to their business, thus forming a sort of trade caste, but not a rigid one. The registers were always submitted to the perusal of the Inca, and, subsequently, kept in the capital.

By the arrangement of "posts," and roads, an insurrection or invasion was readily discovered, and it was speedily announced at the capital city. The march of troops to suppress it, under these circumstances, was easy and immediate, for every requisite for war was always at hand. In all circumstances, plundering by the soldiery, whether at home or in an enemy's country, was severely punished, and war was undertaken solely with a view to peace. If a neighbour was turbulent, he was conquered, and absorbed into the old state, and if a province was rebellious, its worst inhabitants were carried away to some other locality, where their power for mischief would be curtailed; a plan which, we are told, was pursued by the Assyrian Shalmaneser (2 Kings xvii. 6), indicated by Sennacherib (2 Kings xviii. 32), and carried out by Nebuzaradan (2 Kings xxv. 11.). In fine, we may repeat, that it would be difficult for a modern philosopher to conceive a better model of a really paternal government than that which, it is asserted, was found by the Spaniards when they invaded the kingdom of the Incas. Of the respective value of Christian Spanish government, and of the so-called Pagan Inca rule, none can doubt, who reads the present by the light of the past. The Peruvians kept up their roads, protected their subjects, respected life, and fostered everything which tended to increase the general happiness and prosperity of the kingdom—all these objects, have been for a long period neglected, and Peru, which was under the Spanish rule, one of the blots on the face of civilization and Christianity, is only just emerging from a long night, under the influence of Republican institutions.

Our next step will be to ascertain the religion of the people whose political condition contrasts so favourably with that of every other nation of whom travel and history have informed us. But we may, in the first place, remark, that there is no absolute or necessary connection between the happiness, or otherwise, of a nation and its dominant religion, as Buckle has already shown in his History of Civilization. The writer of to-day can find abundant evidence in recent history to illustrate the proposition here advanced. He can point to France, and its condition under a sacerdotal rule, prior to the time of the Revolution, and contrast it with its state since its rulers have tried to make the people prosperous and happy, independently of their religious faith. He can point to Austria and Spain, when they were laid at the feet of the Pope of Rome, and everything was made subservient to the demands of a powerful hierarchy, and to the same states now, when religion is subordinate to the material welfare of the majority. Who, that has read the story of modern Italy, or heard of the atrocities committed under the priest-led Ferdinand of Naples—better known in England by the sobriquet of Bomba; who, that knew anything of his brigand-rearing towns and cities, and has visited them since they have been ruled constitutionally, and with the priestly power curbed by a strong hand, can doubt which set of directors are the best? Christian Rome was never so happy under her Popes as she is now, when the so-called head of the church is subordinate to the chief of the state. But of all priest-ridden countries, one which would never have borne the popish sway as she has done, if her chieftains had been sensible and her people thoughtful, Ireland deserves our commiseration the most. Hibernian hierarchs of the Roman faith designate their country as a land of saints. So, perhaps, it is, if by the word is meant admirers of laziness and filth, who consider that attention to religion justifies murder, and every brutal crime against purse, person, and property.

As a rule, admitting of no exceptions, civil government has preceded sacerdotal rule, and a nation is generally in a weakly and fallen condition as soon as its affairs are directed by the priestly class. When first the Aryans invaded Hindostan, the hierarchy was second to the warrior caste; but as the first aggrandized their power, the second lost their supremacy, and under Brahminic rule the foundation was laid for pusillanimous and indolent luxury in the warrior. The power to plan, and the nerve to enforce laws, for the benefit of all classes of the community, is very different to that which is requisite to exalt and enrich the priestly order; and the well-being of a state depends far more upon the exercise of the first than of the second. Whenever, therefore, the executive government is entirely independent of the influence of the hierarchy, or is itself the head of that caste, it can produce good results for the nation, no matter what may be the dogmas of the priesthood, or the nature of the gods which are reverenced.

Still following Prescott as our guide, we find that the sun was the great god of the Peruvians, and that the Incas assumed the title of his true children. To that luminary a vast temple was built in Cuzco, more radiant with gold than that of Solomon at Jerusalem. To Cuzco, as to the capital of Judea, the name of Holy City was given, and to it pilgrims resorted from every part of the empire. Blasphemy against the sun was considered as bad as treason against the Inca, and both were punished with death. A province, or city, rebellious against the sun was laid waste, and its people exterminated. When conquest over a new tribe subjugated it to Peru, the people were compelled to worship the sun, temples to whose honour were erected in their territory. To these was attached a body of priests, to instruct the people in the proper form of adoration, which consisted in a rich and stately ceremonial. The divinities of the conquered people were removed to Cuzco and established in one of the temples, where they took order amongst the inferior deities of the Peruvians.

But, though the sun was unquestionably worshipped, Prescott observes, ch. iii, "it is a remarkable fact that many, if not most, of the rude tribes inhabiting the vast American continent had attained to the sublime conception of one Great Spirit, the Creator of the universe, who, immaterial in his own nature, ought not to be dishonoured by an attempt at a visible representation, and who, pervading all space, was not to be circumscribed within the walls of any building, however grand or rich."

As civilization progressed, we are told that a separate order of men, with a liberal provision for their subsistence, was set apart for religious service, and a minute and magnificent ceremonial contrived, which challenged comparison with that of the most polished nations of Christendom. This was the case with the natives of Quita, Bogota, and others inhabiting the highlands of South America, but especially with the Peruvians, who claimed a divine origin for the founders of their empire, whose laws rested on a divine sanction, and whose domestic institutions and foreign wars were directed to preserve and to propagate their faiths. Religion was the basis of their polity, the condition of their social existence. The government of the Incas was essentially a lay theocracy.

The Peruvians believed in the future existence of the soul and the resurrection of the body. They had faith in a Hell, located in the earth's centre, and a Heaven, in which the good would revel in a life of luxury, tranquillity, and ease. The wicked, however, were not to be hopelessly damned and tormented for everlasting, but were to expiate their crimes by ages of wearisome labour. They believed, also, in an evil principle or spirit, called Cupay, to whom, however, they paid no more attention than an ordinary Christian does to the Devil.

The great men were entombed after death, and were commonly buried with the chief things which they required on earth. Sometimes a chieftain was buried, not only with his treasures, but with his wives and domestics. Frequently, over the dead, vast mounds were raised, which were honeycombed, subsequently, with cells for the burial of others. Cairns were as common in that part of the New World as they have been in the Old, and the majority of buildings found at the present day in Peru have been connected with funereal pomp.

The supreme Being in Peru was named Pachacamac, "he who gives life to the universe," and Viracocha, of which the only translation given is "foam of the sea." To him one temple only was raised, which is said to have been built prior to the accession of the Incas, and largely visited by vast numbers of distant Indians. The sun, as we have noticed, was chiefly venerated, and to him a temple was erected in every city and large village, and to him burnt offerings were made in abundance. The moon was also venerated, being connected with the sun as his wife—and Venus, called by the name of Chasca, "the youth with the long and curling locks"—was also regarded reverentially as the page of the sun. Temples were dedicated to thunder and to lightning as God's ministers, and the rainbow was regarded as an emanation from the great luminary. In addition to these, the elements, the winds, the earth, the air, the great mountains and rivers, were considered as inferior deities, to which were added the gods of the conquered races. The chief temple of the sun was extraordinarily gorgeous. It was constructed of stone, and was so finely executed, that a Spaniard declared that only two edifices in Spain could, in the stone work, be at all compared with it like Italian and other churches, it contained many small chapels and subordinate buildings, and the interior was dazzling with gold. On its western wall the deity was emblazoned as a human face surrounded with rays of light, just as the sun is personified amongst ourselves. The figure was engraved on a massy gold plate, thickly powdered with emeralds and precious stones. This was so situated in front of the great eastern portal, that the rays of the morning sun, falling upon it, lighted up the whole temple with a wondrous sheen; but every part of the inner walls blazed with gold. The roof was, however, "thatch" alone. Adjoining the temple of the sun were fanes of smaller dimensions, for the worship of the moon, stars, thunder, lightning, and the rainbow.

"All the plate, ornaments, and utensils of every description appropriated to the uses of religion, were of gold or silver. Twelve immense vases of silver (said to be as high as a good lance, and so large that two men could barely encircle them with outstretched arms) stood on the floor of the great saloon, filled with Indian corn. The censers for the perfumes, the ewers which held the water for sacrifice, the pipes which conducted it through subterraneous channels into the buildings, the reservoir that received it, even the agricultural implements used in the gardens of the temple, were all of the same rich material. The gardens, like those belonging to the royal palaces, sparkled with gold and silver, and various imitations of the vegetable kingdom. Animals, also, were to be found there, amongst which the llama, with its golden fleece, was most conspicuous, executed in the same style, and with a degree of skill which, in this instance, probably did not surpass the excellence of the material" The reader of Prescott will find that he has not adopted this account without carefully estimating the value of his authorities, and I believe that he may be fairly trusted. The various reports, given by Spanish writers, of priests of the grand temple, seem also to have been carefully estimated by the historian, and the number which they amounted to is put down at four thousand at the least.

The high priest was second in dignity only to the Inca, and he was generally closely related to this ruler. The monarch appointed this Peruvian pope, who held office for life. He had the appointment of inferior priests, but all must be from the sacred race of Incas. The high priests of the provinces were always of the blood royal. The hierarchy wore no peculiar badge or dress, nor was it the sole depositary of learning, and it had not to superintend education, or to do parochial work. These duties were performed by others of the Inca class, all of whom were holy, though not, so to speak, in "holy orders." The priest's business was to minister in the temple; his science was confined to a knowledge of the fasts and festivals to be observed in connection with religion, for these were very numerous, and demanded separate rituals. The four principal festivals were solar, i.e., at the equinoxes and solstices, that of Midsummer being the grandest, on which occasion every one who could find time and money enough to do so visited the capital city. The feast was preceded by a three days' fast, and no fires were to be lighted during that period.

When the day arrived a vast array of people, dressed in their handsomest apparel, crowded the streets and squares, waiting for the rising of the sun. When it appeared shouts of joy, heightened by instrumental music, were raised in swelling tones, until the whole orb had ascended above the horizon, after which a libation was poured of fermented liquor, and all the nobles and the king repaired to the great temple, each individual, except members of the royal family, removing their sandals as they entered. After prayer came sacrifice, animals, grain, flowers, and sweet-scented gums being the prescribed offerings; sometimes a child or lovely maiden was also immolated, generally to commemorate a coronation, the birth of a royal heir, or a great victory. Cannibalism never followed the sacrifice; and it may be added, parenthetically, that when the Incas conquered and annexed man-sacrificing and man-eating tribes, they always abrogated the custom, and with far more decision and firmness than Britain has shown in abolishing self-immolation of Juggernaut pilgrims in her Indian Empire, and the burning of widows with their dead spouses. Some may doubt whether a conqueror ought to interfere with the religious customs of the vanquished, but few would plead for the continuance of such customs as human sacrifice and cannibalism.

The animal usually sacrificed by the Peruvians was the llama, and the priest who officiated drew auguries from the appearance of the intestines. To effect the oblation a sacred fire was now kindled by a concave mirror which acted as "a burning glass," precisely as was done by Numa in the days of Ancient Rome. If the sky was clouded, and no rays could be collected, fire was produced by friction. When lighted, the fire was committed to the care of the virgins of the sun, who were bound to keep it up for the ensuing year. After the single sacrifice was completed, great numbers of other animals were slaughtered, and a regular carousal began, attended with music, dancing, and drinking, that lasted for many days, during which period all the lower orders kept holiday. In the distribution of bread and wine at this high festival, the invading Spaniards saw a striking resemblance to the Christian communion, and they recognised a similar likeness in the Peruvian practices of confession and penance. The virgins of the sun were called "the elect," and were young maidens taken from their homes at an early age, and introduced into convents, where they were placed under the care of elderly matrons, who taught them their religious duties, and how to spin and weave, embroider and adorn hangings for the temples, and to frame garments for the Incas. Their work was such, that it was found to be superior to any which the Spaniards had ever seen, or were themselves able to produce. The virgins were separated wholly, not simply, from the world in general, but also from their own relations and friends—none but the king and queen could enter into their convent. The closest attention was paid to the morals of these maidens, and visitors were sent every year to inspect the institutions, and to report on the state of their discipline; a plan similar to which has been repeatedly proposed in Christian England, yet never sanctioned by the parliament! If a virgin was discovered in an intrigue she was buried alive, her lover was strangled, and the town or village to which he belonged was razed to the ground, and sowed with stones, to efface even the memory of its site. These solar attendants were all of royal blood, and were estimated to number fifteen hundred; but to provincial convents the inferior nobility were allowed to send their daughters, and sometimes a peculiarly lovely peasant girl was admitted. The convents were all sumptuously furnished. But, though virgins of the sun, they were brides of the Incas, and we cannot fail, when we read of the vast harem of the Peruvian monarch, to think of the female establishments of the Jewish Solomon, of the Persian Ahasuerus, and that of Louis XV. of Christian France. If at any time the Inca reduced his harem, the superfluous concubines were restored to their homes, swelling with the importance which they had gained by their familiarity with the monarch.

Polygamy was permitted. Matrimony was effected by the Inca, or other chief man, joining the hands of the parties. The king usually espoused his own sister, but no other person was allowed to do so. No marriage was valid without the consent of parents. As a general rule, all unions were effected on the same day of the year, and thus the wedding of couples was followed by general rejoicing.

The genius of the Peruvian government penetrated into the most private recesses of domestic life, allowing no man to act for himself, even in those personal matters in which none but himself, or his family, could be interested. No Peruvian was too low for the fostering vigilance of the government; none was so high that he was not made to feel his dependence upon it in every act of his life. The government of the Incas was the mildest, but the most searching and beneficent, of despotisms.

We now, but with great reluctance, leave our friendly guide, the accomplished Prescott, and ask ourselves, once more, the lessons which we have learned from the departed races of the vast American continent. Can anyone doubt that one of the most conspicuous results obtained is, that Christian rule, and the Christian doctrine, have not proved themselves, in any respect, superior to the Incas' government and their solar religion? Who can read of the civilization, the theology, and the practice of the Peruvians, without believing one of two things—the one, that Jewish ritualism, and the majority of Christian teaching, is of human invention; the other, that the Almighty has revealed His will in the Western as well as in the Eastern Hemisphere? Can any thoughtful man believe that the brutal, covetous, lying Spaniards, who broke, with impunity, every commandment promulgated in those Gospels, to whose authority they professed allegiance, and upon which their faith is founded, were better men, or more favoured by the Lord, "who loveth righteousness and hateth iniquity," than were the gentle Peruvians, who fell before them as lambs and sheep before wolves and tigers? Surely the story of the Incas should make Christians, in all ages, blush for their inferiority to those, amongst whom neither Moses, Samuel, and other so-called prophets, Jesus, nor any of his apostles, preached; and more strongly should it convince us that the wish to do good on a large scale can come otherwise than by the Gospel. If grace, and peace, and love came by the Nazarene alone, how is it—and let us ponder over the question deeply—that all Christian countries have been, and that some are still, conspicuous for the brutality of their political and priestly governments, for the frequency with which they make war, for their ferocity in the destruction of religious enemies, and for the intense hatred evinced against rival sects, by those who call themselves the representatives of the Prince of Peace; whilst, on the other hand, a nation who never heard of the son of Joseph or of Mary, should be conspicuous for the virtues which ought to adorn the soldiers of the cross, but do not? Surely, if the saying be true, "by their fruit ye shall know them," the denizens of the old world must be children of the Devil, who do the work, of their father, whilst certain of the nations of the new world, as it is called, were really children of the light, abounding in love, charity, and goodwill towards all men.

To me it is astonishing how thoughtful men, who have read accounts of the Mexicans and the Peruvians, can continue to believe that the Bible is the book of God, written by holy men, whose thoughts and diction were essentially those of the third person in the Trinity. Who can assert that Abraham and Jacob, Moses and Aaron, were taught of God, and that to the Hebrews alone has the Creator revealed His will? Who can see, in the sensual king David, a man after God's heart, and applaud the brutal murder of Agag, the destruction of the priests of Baal, by the orders of Elijah, and the extermination of the Baalites in Israel by Jehu? Compared with such wretches as these the Incas were angels. They had not left to them the bloody legacy which has come to the Christian world by means of the Old Testament: they had not been taught to believe that the Almighty revelled in the blood of human beings: they never had, amongst their sacred songs, verses like the following—"that thy foot may be dipped in the blood of enemies, and the tongue of thy dogs in the same" (Ps. lxviii. 23).

Ah, it is time for civilized men to cease their admiration for a book which has produced such frightful fruits, and which has converted millions of human beings into incarnate fiends.

The Vedas and the Shasters—the writings of the Buddhists, and those of the Parsees and the Chinese, contain, nowhere, such a justification of wholesale murder, as do the Scriptures of the Jews and of the Christians.* From these have been drawn the power to persecute, and, if possible, to exterminate those who worship God in a different fashion to those in power. Calvin was as bad as Torquemada; and, even at the present time, it is only public opinion that prevents fanatics, like the early New Englanders, from reducing their Christian hate to practical torture. Everywhere the professed followers of Jesus assume the power to torment their opponents, whenever they can do so without breaking the civil law, and there are few pulpits from which the voice of revilement, contumely, and denunciation is not repeatedly heard. The Romans abuse the Anglicans; the Establishment sneers at Dissent; Nonconformists censure all churches; and all libel those whom they call Free Thinkers and Atheists. To find "toleration" in matters of religion, one must seek amongst the Deists, or amongst those who refuse to see in the Bible the revealed will of God to man.

         * See Matthew x. 34, 85; Luke xii. 49, 51, 52, 53.

## CHAPTER III.

         Can civilization grow out of barbarism? Dislike of progress,
         especially if mental. Rediscovery of ancient knowledge.
         Advance and retrogression. China and Japan—influence of
         strangers. Decadence of nations—followed by a rise. The
         Shemitic and Negro races. Varied religious ideas. The Negro
         Fetish and Obi. Jewish, Arab, and Christian communication
         with the dead. Australian idea about white men. Ideas of a
         soul and futurity amongst the Aryans and Egyptians. Their
         priesthood. The Aryans Monotheiste. An Aryan hymn. Max
         Müller and Talboys Wheeler. Aryan conceptions compared with
         Psalm civ. 1-4. Monotheism of the Egyptians.   Shemitic
         religions.

At one period of my life I entertained the idea that civilization never had grown, nor ever could grow, out of barbarism. Perhaps I have not yet wholly abandoned it. The considerations which the question involves are all but infinite. It is doubtful whether we can reduce them into shape without writing an extensive treatise. We will, however, attempt to do so, and present the subject to our readers to the best of our ability.

As far as our own personal and historic experience goes, we find that man has no natural propensity to learn beyond that which he has received simply as an animal. With him school is a hateful place, and education is a painful process, even in the midst of the highest civilization we see individuals who cast from them all the luxuries of life, and descend voluntarily to a level scarcely superior to that of the brute creation. But those who take kindly to education, and consent to try and learn everything which the teacher presents to their notice, are bounded by the amount of knowledge possessed by the instructor, who cannot impart to others information in matters of which all are ignorant. It is true that I once read a question propounded by his schoolmaster to one of my sons, which ran—"Enumerate upon paper all the capes, bays, and rivers of England that you don't know by name, and describe the seas which you have never heard of." Without dwelling upon the anecdote farther than to say, that it points out the absurdity of the idea that education of itself advances knowledge, we may pass on to remark, that even in nations, whose intellect is highly cultivated, the propensity to advance in knowledge is singularly small. Throughout the old world an inventor is usually regarded as a visionary, or a lunatic, and flouted by all his contemporaries.* From the time of Aristotle and Hippocrates, scarcely any advance was made in philosophy, and, throughout Europe, the fourteenth century was as barbarous, if not indeed more so, than the first of our era; and to such a dark age there is a strong clerical party in Great Britain which desires us to return.

         * A man who had travelled much once said to me,—"I will
         tell you the main difference between a Yankee and an
         Englishman. If you inform the latter of some new discovery—
         or propose the use of some recent invention for his own
         benefit—he will tell you either that the thing is old, or
         worthless. On the other hand, if you recount to the former
         what you have told the latter of, his rejoinder will be, I
         can improve upon that." This is true, and we are now
         repeatedly adopting from the United States discoveries of
         various kinds, which we rejected when offered to us in the
         first place.

Yet, notwithstanding the propensity of cultivated nations to remain quiescent, there do appear, from time to time, individuals who, being discontented with things as they are, endeavour to bring about improvements in the arts, the sciences, and the general conditions of life. The recognition of a want, is an incentive to a thoughtful mind to supply the exigency. Whenever an individual endeavours to attain a definite end, he exercises his mind, not only in what he has been already taught, but what he can observe beyond that; he rakes up, if possible, the experience of others, studies their proceedings, and experiments with a definite object, and ponders upon the affinities, nature, and the like, of every substance which he surmises may be of service to him. When, by these means, he has obtained his purpose, he will repeatedly find that he has done no more than rediscover a something which was known thousands of years before his time. Without a doubt, much of the philosophy, science, art, religion, &c., of the present day, is due to a close observation and an attainment to the knowledge possessed by our predecessors. "Is there any thing whereof it may be said, see this is new?—it hath been already of old time, which was before us" (Eccles. i. 10).

If this be true, even though it may only be so to a partial extent, it is clearly more philosophical to believe that some primeval men were created with a considerable amount of knowledge, rather than that all were savage, barely, if at all, superior to monkeys, and that one or more of these, gradually elevated their race, by degrees so slow, as to be imperceptible in less time than many thousand years.

This side of the argument receives corroboration when we study the history of such semi-civilized countries as China, and such barbarous regions as those of Africa and Australia. In none of these parts do we see any general propensity to advance. In the first we see a retrogression; there is now no effort to repair ancient roads which have been worn away by centuries of traffic, to restore the old temples, towers, and landmarks, erected when time was younger, or even to keep up the teachings of Confucius. A similar apathy existed amongst the Japanese—yet no sooner do the civilized nations of Europe show the rulers of China and Japan that it is necessary for them to improve, if they desire to retain their power, than they attempt to learn the arts which have enabled their rivals to overcome them. In both cases, the progress is recognized as due to the interference of a nation, superior for the time being, to that whose education has been faulty. Advance, then, in such countries, is clearly due to foreign influence, rather than to an innate propensity to general, mental, scientific, or practical development.

But, on the other side, it may be alleged that the African has been in existence from time immemorial—that he has been in contact with the civilization of ancient and modern Egypt—with Christianity—with the ancient Tyrians and Carthaginians—with the Arabs—with the Spaniards, Portuguese, and British, and yet the African tribes remain almost as savage now as when they first were known. Similar remarks apply to the inhabitants of the Andaman Isles, of the vast islands of Borneo, Celebez, Papua, New Guinea, and others.

Yet in many places, now considered barbarous, we see the remains of previous empires—and when we are able to find some comparatively authentic history which tells of the overthrow of a powerful kingdom, it is clear that the civilized people have usually been destroyed by the barbarian. The wealth of Rome tempted the hordes from the inhospitable north, just as the gold of Mexico and Peru were the causes of their decadence under the Spaniards, whose people were in themselves scarcely superior to the troops led by Alaric, Genseric, and other so called barbarians. Yet we know, as in the case of Spain herself, that decadence from civilization to comparative barbarism may be due to causes inherent in the people and its governors, wholly independent of foreign conquest. This decadence is due to the bestial propensities of man being allowed to dominate over the intellectual, and the result is the same, whether the animal passions be cultivated by a debased and degrading policy of monarch and priest, or by the indolence of each individual.

By developing the train of thought thus indicated, we imagine that the philosophical reader will conclude that amongst men, some race, family, or tribe, has been created with intelligence, as much above the rest of their kind as the elephant is superior to the hippopotamus, and the dog to the cat, and that others are generically as low as is the Australian "dingo" in the canine race. Those once perfect may deteriorate, yet carry with them the power of rising again—whilst those originally low never rise at all, no matter what example may be set them, unless force is used to make them learn. To these we must add a third set, specially to include the American, for we have no evidence whatever that the civilization of the Aztec and Peruvian was anything more than a restoration of the scientific knowledge of a more ancient people, possibly of an Aryan stock. Who that is acquainted with the Shemitic race can fail to see in its people the type of an ancient condition which has decayed, until, like a fallen gentleman, it can only show what once it was, by conserving and exhibiting a few ornaments of no value, save from their age, but whose sons may yet become princes in their paternal domains? Who that studies the negro in Africa, America, and St. Domingo, can fail to see that he is, or, at any rate has hitherto shown himself, almost wholly incapable of development as a philosophic man? And who can read the pages of Prescott without recognizing the fact that some of the ancient inhabitants of America inaugurated—unassisted, as we judge by any example from others—a style of religion and government of which the world has hardly, if at all, seen an equal? Yet it is remarkable, that both the Mexican and Peruvian traced their laws and institutions to strangers who came amongst them, as Oannes did to the Babylonians, and who taught them what arts, religion, and science they themselves had. The subject of centres of human life into which our considerations have drawn us, is by far too vast for discussion here. It involves the study of geology, of anthropology, of glossology, of navigation, of physical geography, of climate, of the laws of reproduction, of the influences of climate over animals, and of diet upon man. Into all these we dare not enter: we shall confine ourselves rather to considering the religious ideas of the lowest of the known races of mankind; and then proceed to those which have been held by what we may call the oscillating people, i.e., those vibrating repeatedly between a state of empire and one of slavery, like the people of Hindostan, Babylon, Judea, Greece, Italy, Spain, and Egypt.

When we endeavour to ascertain the religion of the negro, by which term we include all the black native tribes of Africa, we find ourselves almost in the position of a modern chemist seeking for the philosopher's stone. In no single book, and I have read very many, can I find any trustworthy evidence of the negro having any religion at all. It is true that travellers in Abyssinia, and those who are now returned from their successful expedition against Magdala, tell us that in Abyssinia there is a form of religion which is evidently a corrupt form of Christianity, but with this exception, the blacks seem to have no idea of that congeries of fact and fiction, dogma, ritual, and practice, which passes current for religion in more civilized countries. Yet though they have no definite idea of a Creator, and the way in which He works throughout the universe, they have a dread of some unseen power, and, like a number of frightened children, dread the effects of "fetish," and the power of the Obi or Obeah man. When the mind is predisposed to fear, and it is so amongst the lower animals as well as in man, it is astonishing at what contemptible objects one may stand aghast. I can vividly remember being sent, whilst a very young child, with a message from an aunt, at whose home I was staying, to the maid, who was washing in an outhouse, but ere I reached the door of the latter, I was terrified at a head which seemed to be rising from the ground, Such was my horror that I ran away, too proud to scream, yet almost fainting with horror. To me that ancient battered barber's doll was "fetish," and if my friends had determined to cultivate the timidity which I then showed, it is quite possible that to this day I might have a dread not dissimilar to that of the African. As it was, my aunt told me that what had scared me, was only a piece of carved and painted wood, and so put me upon my mettle, that I delivered my message and gave the image a kick in the face; yet my valour was short lived, and during the rest of my sojourn I dared not venture within sight of the bugbear. To all intents and purposes that human head was, in my estimation, the guardian of the garden—its presence made all within its influence under taboo—had I ventured to tell a lie, or to have been naughty, I cannot conceive that any punishment would have been greater than being doomed to sit in the presence of the weird image. Hence I can easily understand the abject terror of the African at "fetish," and his dread of the Obeah man, who asserts that he can direct upon whom he will the power of the unknown god. So great is the fear of this negro magician, and so common is that fear to man in general, that we sometimes find the white man as full of it as the black. I have had, for example, under my own care, an Englishman of good education, who, whilst superintendent of a Jamaica plantation, became so cowed by "Obi," that he was obliged to give up his position and return to England, literally insane upon the subject of "fetish" and "Obeah," and wholly unfitted for any work whatever.

The objects to which the name of "fetish" is given are very numerous—a rock, a stone, a tree, a pool, a dried monkey, an alligator, man, or skull—anything will suit the purpose. One which is said to be very popular amongst chieftains is prepared somewhat in the following manner:—The head of a father is removed after death, and so placed, that as the brain decays and softens, it may fall into a receptacle already half filled with palm oil or other grease. The material so formed, consisting to a great extent of the thoughtful organ of the sire, is then supposed to give his spirit to the son, whenever the latter smears himself with it, or takes it as a potent medicinal spell. The head thus placed becomes the royal "fetish," and the king goes to take counsel from it just as ancient priests inquired, or pretended to inquire, from the god or lord of some shrine or oracle. I cannot charge my memory with everything that has been at one time or another regarded as an object of wonder, worship, or "fetish," but I have an indistinct recollection that a musical box has been venerated by Africans, as much as the Ancilia, the Palladium, the Diana which fell down from Jupiter, the Caaba or black stone of Mecca, the ark of the covenant, the brazen serpent, the wood of the true cross, the nails which pierced Jesus, and the handkerchief which was used to wipe the face of the suffering Nazarite, all of which have been sacred amongst civilized nations, and are still adored by some. It would be difficult for a philosopher to draw a distinction between an African "fetish" and a Papal relic. There is no virtue which the Romanist has attributed to old bones, old nails, old shoes, old coats, old houses, old staircases, old bits of wood, old links of chains, old hairs, old statues, &c., that has not been equally attributed by negroes to some absurd fetish in Ashantee, Dahomey, or elsewhere.

In some parts of the vast African continent, however, there seems to be an indistinct idea of a life after death, and when a great man dies, or is killed, his wives, and many of his slaves, are sacrificed for his future use, and vast human sacrifices are made annually in his honour, that the departed may hear, from time to time, of the welfare of those whom he has left behind. Feeling indisposed to regard this practice as the offspring of religious faith, I would compare it with the crude conceptions of some of the lowest class in Europe and America, aye, of some cultivated intellects as well, who profess to be able, by means of media, to communicate with the dead, or who send messages to their departed relatives by friends that are dying. The most remarkable development of this idea which I have yet met with has recently occurred in France, where a young man attempted to murder a beautiful young woman, to whom he was a total stranger, the reason he assigned being, that he intended to commit suicide immediately after the murder, so that he might enter the future world with a pleasant companion.

We can scarcely regard the persons figuring in the following true story as being very much superior to the King of Dahomey. In a well-cared for English village a poor woman was about to die in the full odour of Protestant sanctity. In youth she had lost one leg, and now had disease in the other. To her came an old woman and said,—"I hear thou's goin' to dee Betty, and that thou's goin' to heaven—at least parson says so—when thou's got there, willee tell my owd man that I've just bought that field as he set his heart on." "Oh dear," said the dying woman, "how can I go stumping all about heaven with my legs in the state they're in." "Well, you can tell him at anyrate if you happen to see him go by!"

Passing from the African, let us now say a word or two about the Australian. It is, I think, Mitchell, who states, in an account of his travels in that country, that the white men were used in a manner so considerate, in some instances, indeed, so kindly, that he was induced to inquire into the cause. He found that these friendly tribes were in the habit of eating their defunct relatives—being always short of provisions, they used man meat, as do other starving creatures when they devour their like—and they cooked the body much in the same way as we do dead pig. By scalding the carcass, the cuticle and the black layer, called rete mucosum, was removed, and the corpse became white. This gave the people the notion that Europeans were their own dead relatives returned from the spirit world. Sir G. Gray also, in his account of an expedition to the north-west coasts of the same vast island, describes how all the people with whom he came into contact believed in the power of sorcery or witchcraft. Without extending our inquiry into the undeveloped religious ideas of other barbarians, we may affirm, from the preceding examples, that there is, even amongst the lowest human beings, some idea of a future state, and of the existence of some unseen power, which may work mischief upon themselves or their friends. Beyond these vague notions the savage who has neither been taught, nor inherited the power or propensity to learn, rarely, if ever, passes.

If, then, the surmise to which we gave utterance awhile ago is founded in truth, we may fairly endeavour to ascertain what is the race, or the people, which have been born with a higher religious development, a greater capacity for learning, and a higher appreciation of the value of agriculture and civilization than the rest of the world's inhabitants.

We now find ourselves on the threshold of a question which has, for many years past, divided the scientific world, viz., Was there originally one human couple only, or were there many intellectual centres? Into this matter it would be unprofitable to enter, for to give an account of the Chinese, Egyptian, Aryan, American, and Shemitic races, would require many huge volumes. It will, probably, be permitted to me to omit from the inquiry all but Aryans and Egyptians. I select these because I have, in the preceding volumes, descanted largely upon the faith of the Babylonians, Assyrians, Tyrians, and others, and because I believe that these ancients have done very much to modify the faith of Europe. If time and opportunity permitted, I fancy that anyone might make a most interesting analysis of that which Europe owes to the Shemites, Egyptians, and Aryans respectively; but it is beyond our powers at present to go into the whole subject. The volumes which have recently been published about the Ancient Hindoo religion may be counted by dozens, and the writings of Egyptologists are almost equally numerous. We must, therefore, content ourselves with a reference to a few main points.

It seems to be an undoubted fact, that both the Egyptians and Aryans recognized the existence of a soul in human beings, and believed that it survived the dissolution of the body in some state, whose position and physical condition were unknown. They held, moreover, that the locality and condition of the spiritual part of man after death depended upon the actions of the individual during life. Both people believed in the influence of prayer, of sacrifices, of a maceration, or torturing of the fleshy body, and they had, moreover, each of them, a priestly race, who regulated festivals, ordained ceremonies, and prescribed everything which those who regarded their spiritual welfare should do. I believe that the Egyptians were, in reality, monotheistic; but my authority for the idea has escaped me. It is certain that the ancient Aryans were so, and I cannot do better than refer my readers to the History of Sanscrit Literature, by Max Müller, and the first vol. of the History of India, by Talboys Wheeler. Yet, as the first is out of print, and the second a volume of considerable size, it will, perhaps, be judicious if I quote some passages from both. The following hymn, translated by M. M., p. 559 sq., is, to my own ideas, far more grand in conception than any other which I have read, and shows a depth or sublimity of thought that could only be attained by a profoundly intelligent intellect. Moderns might equal it, none could surpass it. Speaking of the beginning, the words run, "Nothing that is, was then; even what is not, did not exist then." The poet then proceeds to deny the existence of the sky, and of the firmament, and yet, unable to bear the idea of an unlimited nothing, he exclaims, "What was it that hid or covered the existing? what was the refuge of what? was water the deep abyss, the chaos which swallowed up everything?" Then his mind, turning away from nature, dwells upon man, and the problem of human life. "There was no death, therefore there was nothing immortal There was no space, no life, and lastly, there was no time—no difference between day and night—no solar torch by which morning might have been told from evening. That One breathed breathless by itself, other than it, nothing since has been. That One breathed and lived; it enjoyed more than mere existence; yet its life was not dependent upon anything else, as our life depends upon the air we breathe. It breathed, breathless. Darkness there was, and all at first was veiled in gloom, profound as ocean without life." Müller then rather describes what the poet means than gives his words; I will, therefore, adopt now, for the rest of the hymn, the metrical version, which he gives at p. 564:—

         "The germ that still lay covered in the husk
         Burst forth, one nature, from the fervent heat.
         Then first came Love upon it, the new spring
         Of mind; yea, poets in their hearts discerned,
         Pondering this bond between created things And uncreated.
         Comes this spark from earth,
         Piercing and all-pervading, or from heaven?
         These seeds were sown, and mighty power arose,
         Nature below, and Power and Will above.
         Who knows the secret? who proclaimed it here?
         Whence, whence this manifold creation sprang?
         The gods themselves came later into being.
         Who knows from whence this great creation sprang?
         He, from whom all this great creation came.
         Whether His will created or was mute,
         The Most High seer, that is in highest heaven,
         He knows it; or, perchance, e'en He knows not"

One more hymn is even more distinct in its monotheism, p. 569. "In the beginning there arose the source of golden light. He was the only born Lord of all that is. He established the earth and this sky. Who is the God to whom we shall offer our sacrifice? He who gives life. He who gives strength; whose blessing all the bright gods desire; whose shadow is immortality; whose shadow is death.... He who, through His power, is the only King of the breathing and the awakening world. He who governs all—man and beast.... He whose power these snowy mountains, whose power the sea proclaims, with the distant river. He whose these regions are, as it were, His two arms.... He through whom the sky is bright, and the earth firm. He through whom the heaven was 'stablished, nay, the highest heaven. He who measured out the light in the air.... He to whom heaven and earth, standing firm by His will, look up, trembling inwardly. He over whom the rising sun shines forth.... Where-ever the mighty water-clouds went, where they placed the seed, and lit the fire, thence arose He who is the only life of the bright gods.... He who, by His might, looked even over the water-clouds, the clouds which gave strength, and lit the sacrifice. He who is God above all gods.... May He not destroy us. He, the creator of the earth; or He, the righteous, who created the heaven. He who also created the bright and mighty waters." In this hymn I have only omitted the repeated question—Who is the God to whom we shall offer our sacrifice?

Of the high antiquity of these productions no competent scholar entertains a doubt. It is not certain how many years before our era it was composed, but it is considered that it was prior to B. C. 2000, long before the time when the ideal Moses is said to have written, and à fortiori anterior, by at least a thousand years, to the authors of the Book of Psalms.

Talboys Wheeler remarks, p. 27—"Having thus sketched generally the individual character of the leading deities of the Aryans as they appear in the Rig Veda, it may be advisable to glance at that conception of One Supreme Being, as in all and above all, which finds full expression in the Vedic hymns. Upon this point the following passages will be found very significant:—'Who has seen the primeval being at the time of His being born? what is that endowed with substance that the unsubstantial sustains? from earth are the breath and blood, but where is the soul—who may repair to the sage to ask this? What is that One alone, who has upheld these six spheres in the form of an unborn?'" Then follows the hymn just quoted from M. Müller.

I may add that the so-called gods Indra, Agni, Surya, the Maruts, &c., are only personifications of the abstract powers of nature, the sky, fire, the sun, the winds, &c. These are the same conceptions as are referred to in Ps. civ. 1-4—they are not deities, but ministers.

It will probably be said by the orthodox that these descriptions of the creation and the Creator are mere efforts of the human mind, and not the products of "revelation." We grant it at once, and answer, why, then, should the comparatively miserable conceptions of one or more Hebrews, who knew nothing of a soul or a future life till they had learned it from the Chaldeans or the Persians, be regarded differently? Was the Jewish ignorance the result of Divine "inspiration?" Did the Devil give to the heathen the knowledge of Satan's origin and power? If so, why did the Jews, and why do Christians, adopt it?

I have already mentioned that the Aryans believed in the efficacy of prayer to their gods: they offered to them, much as we do now, supplications for rain, abundant harvests, prolific cattle, bodily vigour, long life, numerous progeny, &c., just as did, very rarely, the seed of Abraham.

We may now make some quotations from the Egyptian Ritual for the Dead (Bunsen's Egypt, Vol. V.). "O soul, greatest of things created" (p. 165); "I am the Great God, creating himself" (p. 172); "Oh Lord of the great abode, Chief of the gods" (p. 177). Throughout this invocation, however, the lord of the universe seems to be spoken of as the sun under various titles. There is frequent reference to the danger of the soul falling into the power of some malignant deity, and orthodoxy is secured by addressing every good god by his or her proper title. There is no grand conception anywhere, and the endless repetitions disgust the ordinary reader. I must add that the sun, Osiris, and the male organ, are spoken of as emblematic of each other.

If we next turn to the Shemitic religions, we have to contend with the difficulty produced by the paucity of written records, and the doubts which exist about certain epithets that relate to the gods. As far as I can discover, there was an idea of a Supreme Being, whose name was Jeho. Io. Iou., or the like, and Il or El. His ministers were the sun, moon, planets, constellations, and stars. His emblems were the sexual organs, and worship was, to a great degree, licentious. There was no conception of a spiritual life after death, or of a state of future rewards and punishments. Sacrifice was thought much of, but I doubt whether there was anything like what we know as prayer. At any rate, in all those parts of the Bible which seem to be the oldest, there is a singular absence of any formula or command for supplication. Solomon's prayer is comparatively of modern date. Indeed, this vacuity is implied in the expression of one of Jesus' disciples, "Teach us to pray, as John also taught his disciples" (Luke xi. 1), thus showing clearly that the practice of prayer was not a Judaic, i.e., Mosaic one.*

         * As a friend, who has been kind enough to assist me to
         correct these sheets in their passage through the press,
         considers that I ought to give some reasons for the
         assertion made in the text, the following information is
         appended:—

         I.   There are, in all, about a score of different words in
         Hebrew which have been translated, "prayer," "I pray,"
         "praying," &c. These are—(1) ahnah or ahna, (2) begah, (3)
         ghalah, (4) ghanan, (5) loo, (6) lahgash, (7) na, (8)
         gathar, (9) pagag, (10) pahlal, (11) tztlah, (12) seeagh,
         (13) shoal, (14) tephilah.    The rest are different forms
         of the same roots.

         II.  These words do not, except in a few instances, really
         bear the signification of "prayer" or "intercession," which
         is given to them in the Authorised English Version of the
         Bible; as any one may convince himself by consulting
         Wigram's Hebrew concordance.

         Thus, No. 1, in three instances, is translated in the A. V.
         by the interjection "or,(OL)" No. 2, in the A. V. is once
         used as "praying," but in other parts as "seeking" for
         persons, "desiring" or "requesting," and "making." No. 8 is
         translated in various parts of the A. V.    "I am weak" "I
         fell sick," "was not grieved," "a parturient woman crying,"
         "to put one's self to pain," "is grievous," "hath laid," "is
         my infirmity," and these meanings are far more common than
         the signification of "prayer." No. 4 is only used twice, and
         is in one place translated  "by showing mercy," and in the
         other by "making supplication." No. 5 is translated "O
         that," "peradventure," "would God that," "if," "if haply,"
         "though," and only once "I pray thee." No. 6 is translated
         "enchantment," "orator," "earrings," "charmed," and once
         only "prayer," with the marginal reading "secret speech."
         No. 7 is in one place "now," in another "Oh," "go to," as
         well as "I pray," and this in the same sense as we should
         use the words to a child "I wish you would be quiet" No. 8
         is generally used in the sense of "intreaty" or "prayer,"
         but it once is found as "earnest," and "multiplying words,"
         as in a Litany. No. 9 is used to signify "he came,"
         "reached," "thou shalt meet," "fall upon," or "kill,"  "he
         lighted" on a certain place,  "they met together," and in
         the 53d chapter of Isaiah the same word is used in verse 6,
         "for the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all," and
         in verse 12, for "and made intercession for the
         transgressors!" No. 10 is used almost exclusively for
         prayer, but it is only found six times in the whole
         Pentateuch, in one of which it is read "I had no  thought"
         in the A. V. No. 11 is only found twice, once in Ezra and
         once in Daniel, and signifies "prayer" in both. No. 12 has
         many interpretations in the A. V., viz., "meditation,"
         "speaking," "talking," "complaining," "declaring," in one
         instance only is it translated "pray," and that in the
         apparently important text Ps. lv. 17, "Evening and morning
         and at noon will I pray."   As a substantive the word is
         rendered as "complaint," "talking, meditation,"
         "babbling," and only once "prayer," and that in Ps. lv. 2,
         "Hear my voice, O God, in my prayer." No. 13 is generally
         translated "ask," as we should remark, "well, if he asks me
         what must I say?" "beg," as "he shall beg in harvest;"
         "consulted," in the text "he consulted with images,"
         "salute," "to salute him of peace;" "enquired," "Saul
         enquired of the Lord;" "wished," "and wished in himself to
         die;" "lent," "I have lent him to the Lord," "so that they
         lent unto them." No. 14 is used exclusively for prayer, but
         the word is not to be found in the whole of the Pentateuch.
         III. There is reason to believe that the most important of
         these words have come from the Persian, a language allied to
         the Sanscrit;  and if so, it is clear that the idea of
         prayer was adopted by the Jews after they were patronised by
         the conquerors of Babylon.    Some of the other words are
         Aramaic, and probably even more modern than the rest.    For
         example, No. 10 is compared by Furst in his Hebrew and
         Chaldee Lexicon, to the Sanscrit phal, and No. 8 may also be
         derived from the Persian, and a Sanscrit root gad,  which
         signifies "to speak to," or "call upon,"    Anahf No.  1, is
         Aramaic.

I think that it was Mons. Weill, in his remarkable book called Moise et le Talmud, who first drew attention to the influence of the Talmudists upon the Jewish Scriptures. He pointed out that in the Mosaic law there was no idea of prayer, intercession, or pardon; everything was based upon the "lex talionis," an eye was to be paid for with an eye, murder was to be avenged by murder, and ecclesiastical, ceremonial, and other transgressions were to be atoned, i.e., satisfaction was to be given by sacrifice and payments to the priest or tabernacle. But when the Jews, after their contact with the Chaldeans, Medea, Persians, Greeks, and Romans, began to study theology, two sects arose—the Talmudists, who explained away the older Scriptures, interpolated narratives, or simply texts therein, so as to suit their purposes; and the Sadducees, who refused to adopt as matters of faith anything which was not taught by Moses. The first was the strongest sect, and composed the majority in the Sanhedrim. They thus had power over the sacred canon, and could reject manuscripts or adopt them according as the purposes which were aimed at were served. The Talmudic interpolations are supposed to b« recognised chiefly in the more modern parts of the Old Testament, in Ezra, Nehemiah, the second Isaiah and Jeremiah, in the books of Zechariah and Malachi, in the Chronicles, Daniel, in many Psalms, more sparsely in the older histories, but very largely in the Pentateuch. From these considerations, from the absence of any order in the Mosaic law for the priests to offer any supplication, and from, the general absence of prayer from the sacrifices of all nations, we may conclude that "intercession" formed no part in the Jewish religion in the early days of its existence.

When working upon this subject I endeavoured to examine the curious Iguvian tables, on which Aufrecht, Eircher, and Newman have bestowed such pains. These are, I believe, the only tables extant which give directions to the old Umbrian, or any other ancient priests, how to conduct public sacrifices and the ensuing feasts. In them there are directions for invocations, but no formula for prayers, unless one can call invocations by that name. I fancy, that in some parts of the tables there are words which may be rendered "speak," or "mutter," or "meditate," or "pray silently."

The fact that a Hebrew historian has composed a prayer, and put it into the mouth of King Solomon, rather than into that of a high priest, shows that supplication for the people was not a strictly sacerdotal duty. Even now, with all our liberality of thought, we take our prayers from the Archbishops, and not from the crown.

But what we have said points to another important consideration, viz., how far our Authorized Version can be trusted as a foundation upon which to build a theory respecting the use of prayer, when we find that the words given in English do not correspond with the words in the original Hebrew.

We have noticed in the text that both John and Jesus taught their disciples to pray; we may now call attention to the idea which the latter had of "prayer." In a parable, which was evidently intended to represent what was common enough in his day, he says, "Two men went up into the temple to pray, the one a Pharisee, and the other a publican; the Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself—God, I thank Thee that I am not as other men are," &c (Luke xviii. 10-13). Surely one cannot call a boastful enumeration of one's virtues either "supplication," "prayer," or "entreaty;" but we understand readily that what we should call "meditation" was once included under the name "prayer." This anecdote unquestionably seems to prove that there was nothing like public prayer in the temple ritual. The idea of the Ancients was to obtain what they wanted by costly sacrifice; the idea of the Moderns is to obtain their desires by the expenditure of words only. We know that Pagans used long litanies, and that Christians do so too. In Jezebel's time "0 Baal, hear us" resounded on Mount Carmel in sonorous monotony. We have replaced that heathen chant by another, and our cathedrals reverberate constantly with the musical rogation, "We beseech Thee to hear us, good Lord," uttered more than a score of times. Our orthodoxy consists in our using English instead Phoenician words, and in calling Baal by a word more familiar to us; and as the highest commendation which we can give to others is to imitate them, so we praise the Ancient heathen highly, who thought that they would be heard from their "much speaking." It is ever easier to change our words than our practice. Like the Pharisee, Christians boast that they are not as other men are; but by their proceedings they show that they are like the Jews, of whose paternity Jesus had not an exalted opinion. (See John viii. 44).

In further illustration of the absence of a set form of prayer in the temple worship in Jerusalem, and of the independence of all devout solicitors of priestly aid, I may point to Matthew vi. 5 to 8, wherein we find that hypocrites offered their supplications, not only in the temple, but at the corners of the streets. It is just possible that in the former locality there might have been some public worship going on, in which the saintly could join, but certainly there was no such ritual at street corners. But if there had really been divine service in the temple, it follows that those who joined in it would not have been conspicuous, or deserving the name of hypocrites. The fault of these which is mentioned by Jesus is ostentatious public prayer, i.e.9 the doing of that which had not been prescribed by Moses.

As I have, in a preceding volume, spoken at some length concerning the morals and manners of ancient races, and shown how, as a rule, their conduct has been the same as that of modern Christians, and as, moreover, the subject has been treated of in an essay by Lecky (History of European Morals), I will not pursue this part of my subject further than to remark, that we have scarcely two articles of faith—if, indeed we have more than one—i.e., respect for one day in seven—which we have not received, directly or indirectly, from Pagans. Even our Christianity is but a modified Buddhism, as I shall endeavour, in my next chapter, to show.

## CHAPTER IV.

         Christianity and Buddhism. The new and old world. An
         impartial judge is said to be a partisan. Works on the
         subject. Sakya Muni's birth, B.c. 620 (about), position in
         life, original views. Parallels between Brahmin-ism,
         Buddhism, Hebraism, and Christianity. History of Sakya Muni
         —that of Jesus corresponds with it marvellously. Sakya
         receives a commission from an angel—is henceforth a
         saviour. History of Jesus follows that of Sakya. Siddartha
         neither dictated nor wrote. A favourite garden. Sakya and
         the Brahmins. Buddha and Christ equally persecuted. Spread
         of Buddhism after Siddartha's death. Asoka a royal convert
         Buddhist missionaries, b.c. 307. Their wonderful successes.
         Different development of Buddhism and Christianity.
         Persecution a Christian practice, Buddha tempted by the
         Devil, and by women, like St Anthony. Buddha's life reduced
         to writing, at least B.c. 90. Hardy on Buddhist miracles.
         His remarks criticised. Necessity for miracles is doubtful.
         Sakya and a future life. Resurrection from the dead. Jesus
         not the first fruits of them that slept. Paul's argument
         worthless. Buddhists in advance of Christians. Priestcraft
         at time of Buddha and Jesus. Both did away with ceremonial.
         Sakya's doctrine—compared with Christian teaching. Another
         parallel between Buddha and Jesus. Commandments of Tathâgata
         (Buddha), or the Great Sramana. Rules for his saintly
         friends—for outsiders. Definition of terms. The Sra-mana's
         opinion of miracles—a comparison. The history of Jesus told
         without miracles. Buddhistic confession—remarks on in
         modern times. Filial respect. Public confession, murder
         absolved thereby. Asoka, about B.c. 263, sent out
         missionaries. Objections made against Buddhism. Ideas
         respecting God. Salvation. Buddha and Jesus. Nirvana. Heaven
         and Hell—Christian ideas. Apocalypse. The heaven of John
         and Mahomet compared with that of Buddha. Prayer not a
         Buddhist institution—nor originally a Christian one. Nature
         of prayer. The developments of Buddhism, particulars—
         comparison between the Eastern ancient and Western modern
         practice. Abbé Hue. No sexual element in Buddhism and
         Christianity at first—it has crept into both in later
         times. Inquiry into the probable introduction of Buddhism
         into the West. Asceticism peculiar to Buddhism and
         Christianity. The Essenes, their faith and practice—
         resemblance to Buddhism. John and Jesus probably Essenes.
         If Jesus was inspired, so was Siddartha.    Differences
         between Sakya and Jesus. Jesus 'believed in an immediate
         destruction of the world. Idea of préexistence in Jesus and
         Sakya adopted by their followers. The basis of the two
         faiths is morality—but an unsound one. Nature of the
         unsoundness. Morality has a reference to a life on earth
         only. The decalogue superfluous. Ideas of future rewards and
         punishments. Dives and Lazarus. The world can exist without
         a knowledge of a future life. God thought so when He taught
         the Jews. Dogma versus morality. See how these Christians
         live! There are a few good men amongst Christians.
         Supplementary remarks.

From the Peruvian and Aztec religious systems in what we designate the New World, a phrase which involves the idea that its existence was for ages wholly unknown to the historians of the Eastern Hemisphere, we turn to another form of faith, which demands even greater attention. Buddhism has, probably, done more to influence the minds of men in Asia than any other religion in any part of the globe, and its history is so remarkable, that it deserves the attention of every philosophical student of mankind. To the Christian it ought to be especially interesting, inasmuch as there is strong reason to believe that the faith current amongst ourselves is to be traced to the teaching of Sakya Muni, whose original name, we may notice, in passing, was no more "Buddha" than "Christ" was the cognomen of the son of Mary.

An ingenious author on one occasion wrote a charming essay "upon the art of putting things," and I cannot read any treatise upon Buddhism, written by a Christian, without thinking how completely "the advocate" is to be seen throughout them all Ecclesiastical writers, who are Protestant preachers, endeavour laboriously to prove that the teaching of Sakya Muni could not have been inspired, and was certainly false; whilst other writers, who have no particular leaning towards Jesus, extol the author of Buddhism beyond that of Christianity. Truly, in such a matter it is extremely difficult not to appear as a partisan, however carefully the scales may be held. The very fact of endeavouring "to see ourselves as others see us" involves the necessity of "putting things" in a different light to that which is most common or familiar to us. A bumptious Briton thinks more of his own Islands than a Yankee thinks of them, and one who endeavours to describe "the wheel of the law" as an astute Buddhist would do, and who, at the same time, compares it with the teachings of the son of Mary, must seem to those who, without knowing its nature, despise the former, and yet implicitly believe in the latter, to be a partisan. Acting upon this belief, we shall not scruple to appear as an advocate, for we believe that "an opposition" is as good in religion as in politics, and that it behoves us all to examine every important question in all its bearings.

In the following essay I shall not attempt to go into every detail about the life of Sakya Muni, for to do so would weary the reader. Anyone who wishes for such information may be referred to Le Bouddha et sa Religion, par J. Barthélemy Saint Hilaire, Paris, 1860, a book which may be fairly designated as exhaustive. The English reader may also consult The Legends and Theories of the Buddhists, by Rev. R. Spence Hardy, London, 1866, which, though very prejudiced, is extremely suggestive. Hardy's Eastern Monachism and Manual of Buddhists are about the same. The Mahawanso translated by Tumour, is also a very valuable work of reference.

There appears to be little doubt that Sakya Muni was born about 622 years before our era, and that he died when about eighty years of age, i.e.f B.C. 542. He was thus a contemporary of Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and other Jewish prophets. Though of royal birth, and of the warrior or kingly caste, he does not appear to have been instructed in general history, if, indeed, any such was in existence in Hindostan at that or any other period; and we cannot find a tittle of evidence that he ever heard of any other religion than Brahminism, the dominant faith, apparently, of the Aryan invaders of India. In that he was taught assiduously, and some of its tenets he most firmly believed. Amongst others, he held that men lived in a future world, in which each one was rewarded or punished according to his doings when in a human form. His teaching was founded upon the belief which the Brahmins inculcated, that all men endure misery in this world for their conduct in a previous state of existence, and that they would once again suffer after death, unless they conducted themselves, in this life, in a manner pleasing to the Almighty. In this creed is clearly involved, if not distinctly enunciated, a full acknowledgment of the existence and power of God, of the certainty of a future life, and a desire to escape from penalties to be inflicted therein by a supreme celestial Judge, for immorality or impropriety committed in the present state. For these points of doctrine Sakya did not contend, he merely laid down a different system to the Brahmins as to the method by which salvation was to be attained, and the penal consequences of a sinful life were to be avoided.

We may now, halting here for a moment, examine these matters for ourselves, and inquire in what way such faith differs from our own. The Brahmin taught that man suffers pain, misery, and death for certain crimes committed in a previous state of existence; the Christian teaches that each one suffers for a fault committed by ancestors who lived thousands of years ago. Neither the one nor the other regard pain, sorrow, suffering, and death as the normal accompaniments of life, but both attribute them to the wrath of an offended deity, who can be, in some way, cheated, cajoled, appeased, or propitiated. Both assert that men are debtors to God, and that miseries are "duns" used to make men pay their obligations to heaven. The Brahmin taught that this could be effected by prayer, sacrifice, and sundry ceremonies to be performed by some man who had been specially appointed for the purpose. A due attention to morality was also inculcated, but it was apparently considered as of less importance than ritualistic observances.

The Jew, whom so many amongst us believe to have been especially taught by God, propounded a belief essentially similar to that of the Brahmin, with the single exception that he had no faith in a future existence, but thought that sacrifice and offerings, through a priesthood, were necessary to obtain comfort in this life.

The Christian teaches that the horrors of eternity can only be escaped by believing on the Lord Jesus Christ (Acts xvi. 30, 31), and by being moral in addition.

The "belief" here referred to is somewhat amplified in other parts of the Bible, and notably in John iii. 15-17, 36; vi. 39, 40; ix. 35; xi. 15; and Acts viii. 37; from which we learn that an item in the faith was a firm hold upon the idea that Jesus was the son, the only begotten son, of God. This dogma is still further extended in the "Apostles' Creed," wherein the Christians express, as articles of faith, their belief, that Jesus Christ was the only son of God, conceived by the Holy Ghost, and born of the Virgin Mary, &c. This tenet is somewhat varied in the Nicene Creed, which expresses the Christian belief to be, that the Lord Jesus Christ is the only begotten son of God—begotten of his Father before all worlds—being of one substance with the Father, by whom all things were made, &c.

The fundamental teaching of Sakya was, that man can only escape the tortures of the damned, by a strict propriety of conduct in this world, and a persistent endeavour to renounce and think nothing of the gratifications which make life pleasant. The modern Buddhist adds to this a belief in the absolute divinity of the founder of his faith, not simply that he was a son of God, but a visible embodiment of a portion of the Creative Unity. Brahmins and Buddhists believe in transmigration of souls: the Christian does the like, only, instead of being converted into a beast, he imagines that he will become either an angel or a devil.

Within certain limits, we may, therefore, say that the Brahminic, the Jewish, the Buddhist, and the Christian religions are essentially alike, differing only upon minor points, such as the absolute value of morality, of ceremonial, of doctrine, of asceticism, the nature of a hypothetical antecedent, and an equally uncertain future existence, and the best means of escaping the penalties attached, in the second state, to impropriety of conduct in the first. If we deride the Brahmin and the Buddhist for the faith which they entertain, our laugh must necessarily recoil on ourselves, for we have no more unequivocal grounds for our belief than they have for theirs. We point in vain to what we call "Revelation," for they can do the same, and if priority in such matters is good for anything, the Brahminic must take precedence of the Jewish, and the Buddhist of the Christian code. Nor can we call miracles to our exclusive aid, for the religious books of the Hindoo are as full of them as are those of the Jew and Christian, and the stories told in the one can be readily paralleled in impossibility, incapacity, frivolity, and absurdity by the others.

We must remember, then, when speaking of the teaching of Sakya, that it was constructed upon the supposed fundamental truths of Brahminism, just as the doctrines of Jesus were built upon those of Judaism. By adopting these, respectively, the two preachers have demonstrated their belief in them, but neither the one nor the other have advanced our knowledge as to the reality of the earliest faith, nor demonstrated the truth of their subsequent assumptions.

If we now endeavour, for the sake of comparison, to place the Eastern and the Western points of belief in parallel columns, we shall be better able to see the points of resemblance and of difference than by any other plan.

These are only a few of the leading points of resemblance and difference, and might be almost indefinitely multiplied.

After this preface, we may proceed to notice that Siddartha—another name for Buddha—was of royal birth, and born in wedlock: his mother was called Maya Devi, and was herself the daughter of a king. His father was of the warrior caste, and, according to ancient usage, Sakya, like Jesus some centuries later, was presented in the temple of the God of his parents, and recognized by a Brahmin, whom we may designate as a predecessor, by some hundreds of years, of the Jewish Simeon (Luke ii 25, seq.)f as having the marks of a great man upon him. As Sakya grew up to man's estate he was found to be peculiarly clever, and soon distanced his masters, as Jesus was and did, when, at twelve years, he went into the temple and astonished the doctors. He was always thoughtful, and frequently remained alone. Once he wandered into a forest, (compare Matthew iv. 1-11), in which he was found lost in thought. When obliged to exhibit his talents, Siddartha was found to have every conceivable excellence, bodily and mental He was, by parental desire, married to a paragon of a wife, who showed her good sense by rejecting the use of a veil. In this Sakya differs from Mary's son, who never married, being, most probably, of the tribe of the Essenes. In later life Siddartha discouraged wedlock and every form of love. But, during all his outward happiness; Siddartha's thoughts ran upon the misery which he saw on every side to be common in the world, and he entertained a hope that he would be able to show man the road to a happy immortality. In these ideas the teacher was encouraged by a god, who appeared to him by night, and told him that the appointed time for the deliverer had come. This comforter also recommended him to leave his wife, his wealth, his father's house, and give up all he had, so as to be able to seek, unencumbered, the way of salvation. Compare here the passage, Mark x. 20-30, wherein Jesus gives the same kind of advice as the angel gave to Sakya Muni. Having become satisfied of his mission from God, he resolutely abandoned everything, and, being really a scion of royalty, he had much to renounce. Siddartha thus became a mendicant, dependent upon others for food and raiment, and resembled that son of Mary, of whom we read that he had not a residence wherein to lay his head (Matt. viii. 20; Luke ix. 58). He was about twenty-nine years of age when he thus became poor for the sake of mankind. Compare what is said of Jesus, Luke iii. 23. Though Siddartha was opposed to the Brahmins, he nevertheless studied their doctrines, as Mary's son did that of the Hebrew theologians, thoroughly, under one of the wisest of them, for many years. Then, leaving this teacher, he went about preaching and doing good. So much were men impressed with his beauty, his piety, and his doctrines, that they flocked in crowds to see him, and he taught them whilst sitting on the brow of Mount Pandava—even kings came to hear him. Compare here what is said of the Nazarene, Matt. iv. 23 to Matt. viii. 1. Sakya was persecuted for a long time by a relative, who ultimately became one of his most ardent disciples. Compare Matt. xvi. 22 and John xxi. 15, et seq. Siddartha's austerities and mortifications of himself, in every conceivable way, were excessive during the next six years, and these have been represented as a combat with the Devil, whose kingdom he destroyed. At the end of this probation, Sakya Muni, finding fasting and pain not profitable for eternal salvation, resumed the ordinary human habits of eating, &c. This disgusted many of his disciples, and "they walked no more with him." He was partly supported by a slave woman, and was content to clothe himself with vestments taken from the dead. Finally, this wonderful son of Maya heard within him a voice, which told him that he was divine, the saviour of the world, and the incarnation of the wisdom of God—Buddha, "the word" itself. Compare John i. 1, et seq. This was confirmed by a miracle, and thus, at the age of thirty-six, and at the foot of a fig tree, Sakya Muni received a divine commission, "and the word was made flesh." But, though thus divinely inspired, the saviour doubted his power to convert mankind, and at the first he only preached his new doctrines to a few. Even in this respect it is marvellous to see how closely the Christian story of Jesus follows that of his predecessor Siddartha. Some opposed Sakya, but these were soon converted by his majesty, and the glory with which he spake the words—"Yes," he said, "I have come to see clearly both immortality and the way to attain it; I am Buddha—I know all—I see all—I have blotted out my faults, and am above all law." Recognizing in Siddartha the teacher of mankind, the common people heard him gladly, and gave him homage, and he, in return, taught them his full doctrine. The Indian saviour then proceeded to the holy city, Benares, and taught there. But though he spoke much, he neither dictated nor wrote—like Jesus, subsequently, he made no provision by which his doctrines might be perpetuated. From Benares he went to other places, some of which were especially dear to him, and thus became sacred. In like manner Bethany was sanctified by Jesus. Amongst others was a garden, given to him, with a mansion, by a wealthy disciple, which a lively fancy might call a Hindoo Gethsemane. In this garden Buddha made many disciples, and in it the first council of his followers was held after his death. Another favourite retreat was a plantation of mango trees, and this, like every other spot that Siddartha is known to have visited, has been adorned by the faithful with ornamental architecture in commemoration of him.

As may be supposed, Sakya, when he assailed the Brahmins, was in turn opposed by them with persevering malevolence; the former was outspoken and said what he thought of the priests—he called them hypocrites, cheats, impostors, and the like—and they were apparently conscious that they deserved such titles.

Here, again, we notice a singular parallel between the Hindoo saviour and the Jewish one, who followed him after a long interval. Not that there is anything wonderful in the founder of a new faith reviling the ministers of one more ancient—nor in the priests of an established church endeavouring to suppress, by punishments, the professors who interfere with their repose. We know how the Christian fathers abused and lampooned the faith of those whose practices they detested—how Luther and his followers lashed the vices of the Papists, and how these in their turn burned the new preachers—when they had a chance; how the Nonconformists censured the Establishment, and how the Episcopal Church has harried Independents and Presbyterians. But it is strange to find both Sakya and Jesus inaugurating a religion of peace by fierce invectives. We have not particulars respecting the choice of language made use of by the Indian, but we can scarcely imagine that it could be more to the purpose than the vituperation employed by the Hebrew. Jesus says,—"Ye compass sea and land to make one proselyte, and when he is made ye make him twofold more the child of hell than yourselves,"—"Ye are like unto whited sepulchres, which indeed appear beautiful outward, but are within full of dead men's bones and all uncleanness" (Matt, xxiii. 15-27). One cannot wonder that the Brahmins and the Pharisees, who were objurgated as hypocrites, should retort upon their accusers, prosecute the one and crucify the other.

As Sakya's influence increased, the power of the old priesthood diminished, and there are accounts of many contests between the old dispensers of Brahma's religion and the new saviour, which were held before kings and people. In consequence of these disputes Buddha's life was repeatedly in danger. But though often threatened, Siddartha died peacefully when about eighty years old, beloved by many, respected by more, worshipped as a divinity by his immediate disciples and intimate friends, and venerated by all who had listened to his discourses.

There are a great many legends existent, and of very respectable antiquity too, which tell of miracles performed by this very remarkable Indian teacher; but the judicious historian, upon whose authority I am at present relying (St. Hilaire), does not intermingle these with the narrative of Siddartha's life. In this respect he shows greater judgment than the scribes who first compiled the stories of Buddha and of Jesus, both of whom conceived that human beings could not be converted to a new style of belief without thaumaturgy.

The account of Sakya Muni and his religion would be incomplete did we not add that he left behind him enthusiastic disciples who were eager and successful in spreading his views. But many years, how many we do not know with absolute certainty, elapsed ere any account was written either of his life or of his teaching. Nor ought we to wonder at this, for until time has been given to mankind, it cannot fairly estimate the value of anything new; and when men do at length form, what they believe to be, a perfect judgment of the importance of the doctrine which has become deeply rooted, they are more eager to promulgate it in the world than to record it by writing in the closet.

The new religion certainly spread extensively all over the vast continent of Hindustan, and in the course of about three hundred years, found an enthusiastic and powerful convert in the person of a king called Asoka, who was reigning when the third convocation of Buddhists was called, b.c. 307. This ruler was imbued with a missionary spirit, and under his influence, preachers full of energy went not only throughout India, but into China, Japan, Ceylon, and apparently into every country to which ships, caravans, and the flow of commerce gave them access, including Persia, Babylonia, Syria, Palestine, Egypt, and the very populous and important emporium Alexandria. We may judge of the fanaticism of these religious envoys by their success, and we may, as is often done by Christian missionaries, test the real value of their doctrine by its endurance, and its adaptability to the religious wants of the human animal. If missionary success is a test of truth in religion, Buddhism must be superior to Christianity. Buddah—for his name is spelled variously—has more followers, according to competent authorities, than Jesus, and if the depth and earnestness shown by the converts to the two men could be weighed in impartial scales, we believe that the preponderance would be in favour of the followers of the Indian saviour.

We readily allow that Buddhism has not developed in many matters like Christianity has done. The Buddhism of to-day does not essentially differ from that in the early ages of the faith; the followers of Siddartha have not adopted the doctrines of the nations amongst which they have settled. The Christianity of to-day, on the other hand, is so widely different from that current in the first century of our era, that it has been remarked, with great pungency, that if Jesus revisited us now, he would be denounced as a heretic, and abused as a nonconformist. His followers soon introduced politics into religion, and adopted the fables and the doctrines of the Pagans amongst whom they dwelt, merely changing certain names, and ascribing virtues and miracles to saints, which the heathen attributed to Apollo, Mars, or Venus. Jesus, though a Jew, never sacrificed, nor did his apostles, but his followers thought prudent to filch the practice from the heathen; and, to smooth their difficulty, they profess to turn bread and wine into flesh and blood, and offer it up as an oblation upon their ecclesiastical altar. Jesus knew nothing of purgatory; with him the rich man went direct to hell, and Lazarus to Abraham's bosom. Modern Christians are wiser than their teacher; for he disdained the learning of Egypt, his followers took their purgatory and trinity therefrom. All this shows, that the faith of Christians in their teacher has not been equal to the unbounded trust felt by the Buddhist in his master's wisdom. Buddhism, moreover, has neither taught nor sanctioned any system of persecution. Sakya, it is true, encouraged men to make themselves miserable upon earth that they might attain future immunity from woe, but he never ordered them to use the sword or dragonnades to force other people to do so. The followers of Jesus, on the other hand, have but too often founded their claim to a happy immortality on making other men, whom they called heretics, miserable, as during the period of the crusades against the Saracens, the Albigenses, the Lollards, and the Waldenses. The Christians in many ages seemed to argue thus:—As the painful death of Mary's son saved the world, so I, by torturing a heretic, may save myself. This is an idea of vicarious atonement which, though prevalent for centuries, has never been committed to writing by those who hold it. We do not mean to allege that the opinion referred to cannot be found in history, for it is from such a source that our assertion comes. A belief, such as we refer to, was promulgated amongst the Crusaders, and was fostered by the founders of the Inquisition. Such an idea, too, is embodied in the word—"The time cometh, that whosoever killeth you will think that he doeth God service" (John xvi. 2).

We may, however, trace the idea of persecution in the early Christian Scriptures. Paul, for example, when writing to the Corinthians (1 Epistle v. 3-5) gives such encouragement as he can to those who punish an erring brother Christian, by delivering him over to Satan for the destruction of the flesh, that the spirit may be saved in the day of the Lord Jesus, and in (1st Tim. i. 20), the same author declares,—"I have delivered Hymenseus and Alexander unto Satan that they may learn not to blaspheme." The idea being, that by thus acting, both the Corinthians and Paul were improving their own ecclesiastical condition.

As I may not have another available opportunity for introducing one or two striking parallels between Sakya Muni and Jesus, I may mention here that the former is represented as being tempted by and having conversation with an evil spirit called Mâra, Evil one, Destroyer, Devil, or Papiyan. In one of these confabulations Buddah says,—"I will soon triumph over you—'desires' are your chief soldiers, then come idleness, hunger and thirst, passions, sleepy indolence, fears, doubts, angers, hypocrisy, ambition, the desire to be respected, and to have renown, praise of yourself and blame for others—these are your black allies, the soldiers of the burning demon. Your soldiers subjugate gods and men, but not me, I shall crush them by wisdom, then what will you do?" (Hilaire, p. 61). The sage is then, not unlike the so-called St. Anthony, tempted by lovely woman, thirty-two lovely demons (Apsaras) deploying all their charms. Then follows a third trial, and Mâra says to Siddartha,—"I am the lord of desire, I am the master of the entire world, the gods, the crowd of Dâvanas (spirits), men and beasts have been subjugated by me and are in my power. Like them enter my domains, rise up and speak like them." Buddha replied,—"If you are the lord of desire you are not the lord of light. Look at me, I am the lord of the law, you are powerless, and in your very sight I shall obtain supreme intelligence," (p. 64, op. cit.). The demon makes one more effort, and is again conquered, and then retires, tracing with an arrow these words upon the ground—"My empire has passed away." It may be imagined that the French author whom I quote is a partisan of the Indian sage; far from it, he records such tales with regret, for he sees how strong an influence they must have upon the perfect or imperfect authenticity of the New Testament and the story of Jesus. The similarity of the two histories is heightened by the legend before noticed, that Buddha went to Heaven to convert his mother, whilst Jesus is said to have gone down to Hades to preach to the spirits in prison, with the implied intention of converting them to the faith which he preached.

It will doubtless have occurred to anyone reading the preceding pages, if he be but familiar with the New Testament, that either the Christian histories called Gospels have been largely influenced by Buddhist's legends, or that the story of Siddartha has been moulded upon that of Jesus. The subject is one which demands and deserves the greatest attention, for if our religion be traceable to Buddhism, as the later Jewish faith is to the doctrines of Babylonians, Medes, and Persians, we must modify materially our notions of "inspiration" and "revelation." Into this inquiry St. Hilaire goes as far as documentary evidence allows him, and Hardy in Legends and Theories of the Buddhists also enters upon it in an almost impartial manner. From their conclusions there can be no reasonable doubt that the story of the life of Sakya Muni, such as we have described it, certainly existed in writing ninety years before the birth of Jesus; consequently, if the one life seems to be a copy of the other, the gospel writers must be regarded as the plagiarists.

In the story of Buddha, we have eliminated the miraculous part, and exhibited him simply as a remarkable man. Nevertheless, in the writings of his followers, miracles in abundance are assigned to him. Whether these existed in the original history Hardy doubts, and his remarks are so apposite that we reproduce them (op. cit. p. xxviii). "Upon the circumstances of this first rehearsal (of the life and doctrine of Siddartha), most important consequences depend. If the miracles ascribed to Buddha can be proved to have been recorded of him at the time of his death, this would go far towards proving that the authority to which he laid claim was his rightful prerogative. They were of too public character to have been ascribed to him then if they had not taken place; so that if it was openly declared by his contemporaries, by those who had lived with him in the same monastery, that he had been repeatedly visited by Sekra and other Deivas; and that he had walked through the air and visited the heavenly world in the presence of many thousands, and those the very persons whom they addressed, we ought to render to him the homage awarded to him by even his most devoted followers. But the legend of the early rehearsal has nothing to support it beyond the assertion of authors who lived at a period long subsequent. The testimony of contemporaneous history presents no record of any event that quadrates with the wonderful powers attributed to the 'rahals,' which would undoubtedly not have been wanting if these events had really taken place."

The reader of this extract will now naturally turn his attention to the Christian gospels, and inquire into the time when they were written, and whether the arguments used by Hardy, for disbelieving the miracles of Buddha, do not equally disprove the authenticity of the miracles attributed to Jesus. We can find nowhere, in contemporary history—and there is an adequate account thereof, both Jewish and Roman—any records of the wonders said to have been done in Judea by the son of Mary. Though he was noticed by a certain writer in the Talmud, under the name of Ben Panther, that book contains no account of the marvellous works recorded in the gospels, nor any reference to his miraculous power. The Romans who dwelt in Jerusalem knew nothing of any real miracle, though Herod is reported to have noticed some gossiping accounts of John's successor. We do not find a single reference to any of the wonderful events told in the gospels in any epistle written by those who "companied with Jesus"—except the assertion that he had risen from the dead, to be found in 1 Corinthians xv. and elsewhere—whose value is problematical Still farther, we have tolerably good evidence to show that the Gospels were written at a time when they could not be tested by those people in whose presence the wonders were said to have been wrought. The narrative of John, for example, is, by scholars, supposed to have been written more than a century, probably one hundred and fifty years, after the crucifixion, and the others seem to have been composed for the benefit of those who did not live in, or know Jerusalem and Judea intimately. They resemble, in almost every respect, the stories told of such Roman saints as Francis of Assisi, Bernard, Carlo Borromeo, and Ignatius Loyola, which were always composed long after the death, and out of the presence of every one of those who could deny or controvert them. However much, or little, we may credit the biographies of Buddha and Jesus, we cannot for a moment doubt, that the two individuals were instrumental in founding forms of religion, which, by the aid of missionaries, spread over a vast extent of the habitable globe. Unlike that of Mahomet, the faiths referred to were promulgated by peaceful persuasion rather than by the sword, and by the power of eloquence, example, and precept, rather than by the influence of miracles. If, for the sake of argument, we grant that every specimen of thaumaturgy which his followers attribute to Jesus is correctly reported, we must allow also that his power of making converts by teaching, preaching, and wonder working, was inferior to that of his followers, who taught, preached, and proselytized without performing many, if any miracles. If we assert that miraculous powers are necessary for the establishment and propagation of a new religion, then we must, to be consistent with ourselves, believe in the thaumaturgy of the Buddhists, and the divine mission of Sakya Muni. If, on the other hand, we deny that Siddartha was an incarnate god or saviour, was not divinely inspired, and performed no real miracle, then it is clear that the miracles, which Jesus is said to have achieved, were wholly unnecessary, and not required in any way to upset an old religion, to found a new, or to spread it when established.

The philosopher may pause here, with profit to himself, and inquire whether there is, or there are, any new form or forms of religion which has or have sprung up within his own observation, and if so, whether it or they has or have been based upon thaumaturgy—and, if one or more have been so founded, whether one shows evidence of stability.

Few can deny that Mormonism is a form of belief which has a considerable number of adherents, a body of earnest missionaries, and a laity whose faith and practice have been sorely tested by hardship. Yet there has not been a single miracle performed by its prophets. It is reported that its founder announced that he would perform one in the sight of all Israel and of the sun, but when the time came he said, that if the spectators believed that he could do what was promised, that was quite enough!

Spiritualism, on the other hand, is a new sort of theosophy, ostensibly founded and supported wholly by thaumaturgy; its disciples have induced themselves to believe, against their original ideas, that we are not only surrounded by the spirits of the departed, but that these can be brought into connection with us by means of certain individuals, called mediators or mediums—that these have such power, over the invisible beings hovering in the air, that the souls of the dead may be made to shake the tables of the living, and lift up their sofas to the ceiling. The miracles are believed in by many, but Spiritualism lags far behind the Mormon theology, and probably always will do.

We may regard this part of our subject in yet another light. Let us, for example, suppose that the Buddhists and the Christians succeed in persuading each other of the incorrectness of the miraculous element in their respective books, does it therefore follow, that any essential part of the creed of either one or other must be altered? The doctrines of Siddartha would not be valueless even if his followers disbelieved in his power to fly as a bird, or cross a river on the surface of the water—nor would those of Mary's son be proved to be worthless if it were certain that he never marched over a billowy sea, and that he was not really killed by crucifixion. The disciples of Sakya Muni believed in a resurrection of the dead, without having had the advantage of a real or imaginary reappearance of their master after his supposed decease. The Etruscans, Greeks, and Romans, had all an Elysium to which the good folk went. The Red Indian believes in a future life and happy hunting grounds (so we are told), although he has never heard of Judea. The rude Northmen and Danes had also their Valhalla to go to after death, long ere they were Christians. Still farther, it is to be noticed, by the close observer, that the Jews at the time of Jesus, and some of the Greeks about the same period, were divided in their opinions respecting the existence of men in a future state. The Sadducees, holding fast to the books of Moses and the Prophets, denied the existence of a resurrection, of angels or of spirits. The Pharisees, on the other hand, influenced apparently by Babylonian and Persian theology, had faith in all three. That this belief in a future life was not commonly held by the poor folk in Judea, we infer from Mark ix. 10, wherein we are told that Peter, James, and John were "questioning with one another what the rising from the dead should mean." That the Athenians were equally careless about what is now called "heaven and hell," we judge from Acts xvii. 18, wherein we are told that Paul's preaching about "Jesus and the resurrection" was a strange affair, and from the thirty-second verse of the same chapter, wherein it is said that the doctrine of the resurrection of Jesus was received with derision.

I am quite aware that it may be objected to these remarks that the doubt about the rising from the dead does not point to a general resurrection, but simply to the return to life of one particular individual. This, however, only removes the difficulty to a short distance, for Greek story tells us of the annual return of Proserpine from the realms of Pluto to the light of day, and Adonis was yearly resuscitated, in mythical narrative. For the Hebrew, the rising from the dead ought not to be a wonderful matter. Was it not told in their Scriptures how, when certain persons were burying a man, the bearers in a fright threw the corpse into the sepulchre of Elijah, whose bones had such efficacy that they revived the dead man, who stood on his feet (2 Kings xiii. 21). We find also, from Mark vi. 16, Luke ix. 9, that Herod had a full belief in the power of John to rise again from the death to which that monarch had consigned him. The sceptic may doubt the ability of the two evangelists to read what was passing through the royal mind when Jesus and his works were brought before its notice, but he cannot doubt that the writer was aware that in Herod's time there was a belief in the resurrection of individuals. Indeed, we find in the verse following that which tells of the Apostle's bewilderment, Mark ix. 11, a question, "why say the scribes that Elias must first come?" To which the reply is that the prophet has come. We are constrained, therefore, to believe that Jesus was not the first who rose from the dead; nay, even he himself commissioned his disciples to "cleanse the lepers, and raise the dead" (Matth. x. 8). What, then, is the value of the arguments that Paul builds upon the assertion that Christ is "the first fruits of them that slept."

This being so, we may fairly ask, whence did Mary's son derive the ideas which he promulgated of a resurrection, and of salvation, and why had a sophistical writer like Paul to adopt the clumsy contrivance of asserting that Jesus not only had risen, but that he was the first individual who had done so, to demonstrate that the dead really did return again to life? Paul's argument, indeed, shows how little he knew or had thought upon the subject, for he distinctly preaches a resurrection of the body, not of the soul, a belief adopted into the Apostles' creed. Yet, at the very period when the minds of Christians were thus unformed, the disciples of Buddha, to a man, believed in a future "Nirvana," in which "there should be no more sorrow nor crying, neither should there be any more pain, and where all earthly things should have passed away" (see Rev. xxi. 4). We are not yet in the position to prove that Mary's son and certain of his followers received their inspiration from disciples of Siddartha, but there is certainly a strong presumption in favour of the possibility, much evidence of its probability, and nothing whatever to disprove it. To this, however, we will return by and by.

Ere we proceed to examine into the nature of the doctrines of Sakya Muni and of Jesus, we may cast a glance over the condition of the men whom they converted. In both instances, it is not too much to say that they all were "priest-ridden" in the fullest meaning of the term. The residents in Modern India and Papal Rome, until a short time ago, well understood what the term signifies; day by day, and almost hour by hour, there is, or was in these places, some ceremony to be attended, some prayer to be uttered, some confession to be made, some contribution to be given to monastery, church, or priest. Penances are, and were inflicted of the most painful, sometimes of the most disgusting kind. The last I heard of was in Wales, where a man was ordered to lie down at the church door as a mat, upon which the faithful were to wipe their feet. Both in India and Italy, men, women, and children alike are, or were, taught to regard themselves as the servants, and even slaves of the hierarchy, and their money is, or was, alienated from wives and children to swell the coffers of spiritual tyrants. Perpetual terrors of hell are sounded, until those hearers, whose hearts are impressionable, are habitually haunted by imaginary horrors, each one of which has to be bought off by a sort of hush-money paid to the priest, who has invented, adopted, or described them.

Such was the condition of England and France prior to the Reformation and the Revolution.

So long as men are debased by their guides, and allow themselves, with the docility of a well-trained dog, to be ruled, and so long as tyrannical flamens can wring an ever increasing tax from the people, there is probably nothing more in the breast of each than a vague feeling of dislike, or regret, at the existence of such things, which rarely receives utterance for fear of punishment. But as soon as a man, more bold than his neighbours, raises a standard of revolt, whose success appears to be secure, the bulk of the oppressed first sympathize with, yet fear to join him, then, after watching eagerly the course of events, and admiring the boldness of men more resolute than themselves, they timidly make common cause with the reformer, and, if circumstances favour them, they become enthusiastic. As the news of the mental revolt swells, the people, tired of oppression, rise in their might and sweep away the hierarchy, or compel it to abandon its pretensions. Buddha and Christ were such leaders as we here describe, and such was the course gone through by their followers. The timid Peter denying Jesus, and yet afterwards boldly preaching him up, is an example almost too well known to be quoted.

We are now in a position to inquire into the nature of Siddartha's teaching.

Premising that his doctrines were collected at least 200 years B. C., the first which we notice is one that he not only inculcated by language but enforced by his abiding example. He taught that the comforts and pleasures of this life act as fetters, to chain man's spirit to earth; that day by day they necessitate the cultivation of propensities and passions more or less bestial in their nature; and that as these strengthen, so the individual who possessed them would be born again, after his death, to some form of misery and woe in which he would have to atone for the human infirmities which he had not conquered. To escape from the possibility of such an event, Sakya counselled his disciples to wean themselves, as far as possible, from every sensual passion; to mortify the body by fasting, so as to make it more readily separable from the inner man; to renounce all comfort except that of doing good; and believing in a state of perfect future salvation.

A man, he taught, must abandon everything as valueless compared with the attainment of salvation or nirvana; he must be wholly dependent upon others for food and raiment; he must take no thought for the morrow, and live like a bird or lily, laying up no store; for certainly a disciple of Sakya ought not to undertake any trade or other means of gaining a livelihood, lest it should ensnare his spirit and tie it down to the grovelling things of earth.

This was the rule for the very faithful, the infirm believers had a more lenient code.

If we now turn to the doctrine said to have been taught by Jesus and his disciples, we shall find a close parallel between it and that of the Indian teacher. For example, John says (1 Epis. ii. 15,16) "Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh and the lust of the eye, and the pride of life, is not of the Father but is of the world." Paul says (Rom. xii. 2) "Be not conformed to this world, but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God." James also says (ch. iv. 4) "Know ye not that the friendship of the world is enmity with God; whosoever, therefore, will be a friend of the world, is the enemy of God." Again, we find in Matthew xix., Mark x., and Luke xii., the story of a young man who was possessed of wealth, probably scarcely less than that of Sakya Muni, and whose life had been conscientiously conducted, according to the commandments which he knew, and who having heard of Jesus, came to ask him if there were a more certain way of salvation than the one he was in. To him the reply is,—"If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven, and come and follow me." In the verses, moreover, which follow, there is a remark from the same teacher to the effect, that "every one that hath forsaken houses, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands, for my name's sake, shall receive an hundred fold, and shall inherit everlasting life."

Once again, we find an exact counterpart of Buddha's teaching in the sermon on the Mount, which is recorded in Matth. vi. 25-34—"I say unto you, take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat or what ye shall drink, nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment? Behold the fowls of the air, for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns, yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they?... Why take ye thought for raiment, consider the lilies of the field... if God so clothe the grass... shall he not much more clothe you? Therefore take no thought, saying, what shall we eat, or what shall we drink, or wherewithal shall we be clothed?... Take therefore no thought for the morrow... sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof." Other similar passages might readily be given, but the above suffice to demonstrate the Buddhistic teaching of the prophet of Nazareth.

Both start from the idea that death, disease, pain, and misery is the result of sin—and both imagine that sin consists in living and acting upon the natural wants, necessities, and propensities of human kind. Both imagine that to be natural is to be vile, and that salvation is to be attained by resisting every impulse which is common to mankind Man desires to eat when hungry—this is a weakness to be combated; a mother loves her babe—this must not be tolerated; a youth covets a damsel in marriage—this is a snare to draw both down to hell; celibacy must be enforced. The argument runs thus,—If any one enjoys life he is sure to fear death, and will certainly pay for his pleasures; but if any one has the resolution to pass his years on earth in misery like that of hell, he will be glad to die, and fearless of any place of torment; use has bred a habit in him and no torture can come amiss.

Some Christian author has ventured to assert "religion never was designed to make our pleasures less," but he was a conspicuous heretic. Buddha's doctrine was founded upon the assertion that life is always short, and that it is not worth a man's while to buy a few years of enjoyment with myriads of years of agony. Jesus preached that the Jews' time was short, for they, and most probably all the world besides, were to be burned up any day within the duration of the generation—what then was the use of laying up stores of grain, of buying fine clothes, and keeping wine to get mellow?

Both preachers were equally short sighted and absurd in their teaching, for if their disciples were to live upon alms, and all repented and adopted the doctrine, it is clear that all would starve together, and self immolation by hunger was repugnant to both prophets. If no one made clothes all must go naked, and indecency was forbidden. If no one was to lay up money, there would be no one to pay for work, yet toil was considered to be a duty. If every one was to live from hand to mouth, who would keep a calf until it became a heifer, or a lamb to become a sheep?

It is difficult to conceive that two individuals could have worked out such a scheme of salvation independently, and the minuteness of the resemblances induces me to believe that Jesus, possibly without knowing it, first adopted and then promulgated in Judea the doctrines of the Indian sage.

Following, again, the lead of St. Hilaire (Le Bouddha, &c, 1860, pp. 81, et seq.), we find that Siddartha taught 600 years B. C., that death and all the miseries of mankind were due to the passions, desires, and sins of man; that all this misery would cease in Nirvana (of which we shall speak by and by), and that the means to attain to this salvation is to keep the true faith; to have a correct judgment; to be truthful in all things, and to hold every false thing in abhorrence; always to act and to think with a pure and honest mind; to adopt a religious life, i.e., one that is in no respect worldly, not owing even subsistence to anything which might be tainted with sin; to practise a careful and earnest study of the law; to cultivate a good memory, so that all mistakes in conduct may be remembered if they have occurred, and be avoided in the future; and frequent meditation, i.e., an abstraction of the mind from self consciousness, a thinking of nothing, so as to approximate the soul to Nirvana. These were Buddha's fundamental verities. It is put more shortly thus,—"Practising no evil, advancing in the exercise of every virtue, purifying one's self in mind and will, this is indeed the doctrine of all the Buddhas." Journal of Royal Asiatic Society, vol. xix. p. 473.

We may once more stop to compare the teaching of Siddartha with that familiar to Christians. Paul says, for example (Rom. v. 12) "As by one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin; so death passed upon all men, for that all have sinned;" again, in chap, vi. 23, "the wages of sin is death;" again, in chap. vii. 5, "when we were in the flesh the motions of sins... did work in our members to bring forth fruit unto death;" and again, chap. viii. 6, "to be carnally minded is death; but to be spiritually minded is life and peace." We may next refer to what some call the fundamental teaching of Jesus, as enunciated in answer to the question of the young man "What shall I do that I may inherit eternal life?" Matthew xix., Mark x., "If thou wilt enter into life, keep the commandments. Thou shalt do no murder, thou shalt not commit adultery, thou shalt not steal, thou shalt not bear false witness, honour thy father and thy mother, and thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself." And when the young man asserted that he had done so, all that he was told to do in addition, was to sell his property, give the proceeds to the poor, and become a follower of Jesus, who had not where to lay his head, and to live upon the charity of other people. I must, however, notice in passing, that the teaching of Jesus is not by any means so uniform as that of Sakya, for we find the former here instructing a young man to do no murder, but at a subsequent period, that of the last supper, Jesus exhorts his disciples, and through them, possibly, the very man to whom he rehearsed the commandments, thus "He that hath no sword, let him sell his garment and buy one," (Luke xxii 36). Certainly a direct encouragement to homicide.

For the benefit of the Buddhists a short formula of faith has been framed, which is to this effect—"Tathâgata (another name of Sakya Muni), in the proper condition, has explained that our present state is produced by antecedent causes, and the great Sramana, or Ascetic (another cognomen of Siddartha), has told us how to avoid the effects of sin. The effects are pain and actual existence, having for their cause past sins; the cause is the production of suffering: the cessation of these effects is Nirvana, the teaching of Tathâgata, or of the great Sramana, is the way which leads to Nirvana." The Christian formula runs, "As in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive." To this we may compare a Nepaulese saying, "Arise, leave your possession, take up the law of Buddha, and break asunder the power of death."

In addition to the fundamental maxim given on the preceding page, Sakya Muni added many others, amongst them, "Thou shalt not kill, thou shalt not steal, thou shalt not commit adultery, thou shalt not lie, thou shalt not get drunk;" others are of lighter consequence—"thou shalt not eat out of due season, thou shalt not watch dances or theatrical representations, or listen to songs or music, thou shalt abstain from all ornamentation of dress, &c., and from perfume; thou shalt not have a large bed, nor ever take gold or silver; thou shalt remain inflexibly chaste."

To those who desired to become disciples and personal friends of Buddha, it was ordained that (a) They should only be clothed with rags taken from the cemeteries, or from heaps of refuse, or found on the high road. (b) That there should only be three of these vestments, and that each should be stitched by the wearer, and that they should be covered with a cloak of yellow wool (c) That the food should be as simple as possible—a rule adopted by Christian saints, but not by Bishops. (d) That all should live upon alms and offerings, which should be begged for, in perfect silence, from house to house, and placed in a vessel made of wood—a plan adopted by certain Christian mendicant friars. (e) That only one meal should be taken during the day—a rule to be found in some Christian monasteries. (f) That no aliments, even the most simple, should be taken after noon, the rest of the day after this period should be devoted to teaching and meditation. (g) The faithful should live in the wilderness or forest, and not in towns or villages. Hence Christian hermits lived in the deserts of the Thebaid. (h) They should only shelter themselves under the boughs and leaves of trees. (i) They should sit with the back supported only by the trunk chosen for refuge. (j) They should sleep sitting, and not lying down. (k) They should never change their sitting mat from the place where it was put first. (l) The disciples should unite together, at least upon one night in the month, to meditate amongst the tombs upon the instability of human things. Mendicity, chastity, and asceticism were essential parts of Sakya Muni's practice, and St. Hilaire (op. cit., p. 87) naively remarks that these certainly are not the means for making good citizens, though they may produce good saints.

We may notice, in passing, that the pious followers of Sramana (the one who mastered his passions) were very much more proper, in our eyes, than some of the Brahmins, from whom they seceded, inasmuch as the former wore sufficient garments to cover themselves decently, whilst the latter, whom the Greeks called "Gymnosophists," went without any more clothing than the horse or ass. It is also to be noticed that Siddartha provided a sort of code of laws to be observed by those who wished to adopt his method of salvation, without becoming altogether "religious." These consisted in the enforcement of chastity, purity, patience, courage, contemplation, and knowledge—these were, it was asserted, the transcendent virtues which would pass man across the river of death. They would not land him there in life, but whilst these were adopted as the rule of life, the aspirant was in the right way to attain "Nirvana."

The charity which Sakya Muni ordained was universal, extending even to what we call the lower animals, and one example is given in which a disciple cast himself into the sea to save a boat's crew in danger of death from a storm, whilst another tells of Buddha giving himself as food to a tigress, who had not sufficient milk for her young ones.

Again, the precept against "lying" included false witness, and all that we call "bad language," as well as trifling chat, called "badinage," "wit," and the like. Persons were not only to avoid wrong, but they were to cultivate every good habit, or what we designate each "Christian grace." It was inculcated, that beauty of language, or eloquence, pleasantness of voice, and a due respect to cadence should be studied, so as to make their teaching popular, a precept not much regarded amongst ordinary Christian divines. Beyond other things, humility was inculcated, not that which exists on the lips only, and is apparently compatible with the determined endeavour to exercise unlimited power, which has been conspicuous in the Papacy for a millennium at least, but that which conceals greatness and demonstrates littleness. Thus there is a legend of Buddha refusing, at the request of a king, to exhibit any miracle to convince his opponents, his answer being, "Great king, I do not teach the law to my hearers by saying to them, 'Go, oh you religious men! and before Brahmins and house-holders perform, by means of a supernatural power, miraculous things, which no other men can effect,' but I say to them, in teaching them the law, 'Live, oh ye pious ones, so as to conceal your good works, and to let your sins be seen.'"

At this point we pause once more to draw a parallel between Siddartha and Jesus, though, in the delineation of the doctrine of the latter, we shall see a discrepancy which appears to indicate two distinct authorships in the recorded story. We refer, in the first place, to Luke vi, wherein we find, v. 27, et seq., "Love your enemies, do good to them which hate you, bless them that curse you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and to him that smiteth thee on the one cheek offer also the other" (compare Matt. v. 39, 40). Again, Matt. vi. 3, "When thou doest alms, let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth," and in v. 6, "When thou prayest, enter into thy closet," &c.; v. 16, "When ye fast, be not, as the hypocrites, of a sad countenance." Side by side with this we may place the directions given in Matt, x., where we find that Jesus called his disciples unto him, and gave them "power against unclean spirits to cast them out, and to heal all manner of sickness and all manner of disease "—they were, moreover, "to cleanse the lepers and raise the dead," i.e.t the disciples were to perform miracles; but if they, in their wanderings and teachings, should be rejected, despised, or affronted, the apostles were to shake off the dust of their feet against the persecutors, being certain that condign punishment would fall upon the offenders.

It is curious that in the histories of the Indian and the Jew, there should be analogous discrepancies between records of their sayings and doings. Siddartha and Jesus are represented, each of them, as declining to perform miracles when asked or expected to do so. Nevertheless, in the same histories we find marvellous accounts of the wonders which they performed. We have seen the clashing reports of Buddha, the following reports of the son of Mary are equally discordant. To make the dissonance more striking, we place the passages in parallel columns.

At what time after the death of Jesus the miracles recorded of him were fabricated we can scarcely tell. If, with most critical scholars, we believe that John's Gospel was written by some Neoplatonic Greek, at least a century and a-half after the period alluded to, we must also believe, either that all the legends about the casting out of devils by the son of Mary were invented after the time when "John" lived, or else, which is probable, that the last evangelist gave no credit to them, if they did already exist; and if the good sense and superior knowledge of "John" led him to discredit the tale about the legion of devils, which left one man* to enter into about two thousand pigs, I do not see that other Christians are obliged to believe the legend. From considerations which we advanced in the articles Prophets, Prophecy, &c., in Ancient Faiths (Vol. II., p. 515), and especially in the history of Barcochab, who was supposed to be the Messiah by some Jews in A.D. 131-5, we argued that new matter was certainly introduced into the story of Jesus told by Matthew, Mark, and John, as late as the era of that enthusiastic Hebrew leader. We noticed the doubts that existed in the minds of many early Christians as to whether this redoubtable warrior was not "the man" of whom the prophets spake. We may now still further notice that he professed to perform miracles, which appear to be thoroughly contemptible when weighed against those of the gospels. To our mind it is inconceivable that the followers of Mary's son could have been acquainted with the marvellous works attributed to Jesus in the gospels, and, yet be shaken by such a man as Barcochab. We notice, also, that not one "Epistle" writer refers to them—consequently, we believe that all the wondrous tales told of the prophet of Nazareth, must have been introduced after the time of Hadrian (in whose reign Barcochab was destroyed), and were fabricated by pious Christians, to prove that the Messiah, in whom they believed, was infinitely superior to that warrior whom others had for a time trusted. Both, to be sure, had been killed by the Romans, and thus both might seem upon a par, but if history could be cooked—and there is probably no single history existing which is strictly true—to show that the first performed a hundred times the wonderful works of the second, he would thus become greatly exalted. See especially Matt. xxiv. 24, in confirmation of this view. Be this as it may, there is, I understand, solid foundation for the assertion that the New Testament, such as we have it now, might have been composed, altered, curtailed, added to, remodelled, or otherwise fashioned, at any period between the years a.d. 50 and 300, after which change was difficult, though we cannot say impossible. A corresponding statement is true of the books which record the life and doctrines of Buddha.

         * In Matthew viii. 30-32, we are told that there were two
         men who were possessed with the devils which subsequently
         entered the herd of swine;—in Mark v. 11-13, the spirits
         are represented as being concentrated in one person, and in
         Luke viii. 32-33, the tale appears in the same guise as in
         Mark—only the man is made to call himself "Legion," on
         account of the multitude of devils living inside him. In
         cases of this kind one need not be rigidly particular, for
         it signifies little whether the spirits were one thousand in
         one man or two thousand in two—the wonder is that spirits
         could talk—fly away from man to pig, or commit suicide in
         the bodies of the swine when they might have done the same
         thing in one or two men. It is clear from the miracle that
         certain devils change their habits when they take up their
         habitation in porcine instead of human beings.

At this period of our parallel we may profitably examine the New Testament, and ascertain whether we cannot extract from it a tolerably fair account of the life and teaching of Jesus, without including therein a single act of thaumaturgy. We fearlessly assert, not only that we can, but that the miracles are not an essential part of his doctrine. For example, we learn that Jesus was the son of a woman betrothed to a carpenter, who became pregnant ere yet the ceremony of marriage was gone through. Her affianced husband did not make her frailty an excuse for annulling the contract, possibly for a good, and to him a sufficient reason. He married the already fruitful Mary, and her child passed amongst the neighbours as being the son of Joseph. This we learn from Matt. xiii. 55, where we find the people saying, "Is not this the carpenter's son? is not his mother called Mary? and his brethren James, and Joses, and Simon, and Judas, and his sisters, are they not all with us?" a statement repeated in similar terms, Mark vi. 3. This short account is important, since it completely destroys the papal doctrine that Mary was "ever virgin," for she bore at least four other sons than her first born, and two daughters. At no period was Jesus regarded either by the family or by the neighbours as illegitimate, nor is there any reason to believe that Joseph looked upon him otherwise than as his own son. Indeed, in Luke ii. 42-48, the carpenter distinctly appears to act as if he recognized Jesus as his own offspring—in verse 48, Mary says, "Son, why hast thou thus dealt with us? behold thy father and I have sought thee sorrowing," asserting as plainly as words could speak, that Joseph had begotten Jesus. It is true that the youth replied, "Wist ye not that I must be about my father's business?" but the story adds the important information, that the couple did not understand the saying.

It is clear to us, that if the legend of the impregnation of Mary by the Holy Ghost, after that event had been previously announced to her, and if, as we are told in Matt. i. 20, Joseph had been informed by "the angel of the Lord" that the foetus in Mary's womb was begotten by the Holy Ghost, it would not have been possible for Joseph and his wife to have misunderstood the words of Jesus. The very wonder which they expressed demonstrates the belief of the parents that there was nothing unusual in the conception. The father Joseph knew that he had borne his share in the event, and Mary knew that she had not conversed with any other man; consequently, for her son to indicate another father than Joseph, naturally mystified her. We therefore cannot allow the assertion to pass, that the conception and birth of Jesus was in itself a miracle. But as we shall revert to the subject in a separate chapter, we will say no more about it here.

After living and working with his parents for some years, Jesus was attracted by the preaching of his cousin John, whose doctrines were essentially Buddhistic and Essenian. Like the Hindoos, he used water as an emblem of purification, and urged his hearers to repentance and good conduct. What motives urged John to become "the voice of one crying in the wilderness," we have no means of judging, but the gospel narratives tell us that he, like Jesus, believed in the almost immediate destruction of the world. His text was, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand." Jesus adopted the view, and promulgated it more extensively. His text was the same as that of his cousin, but more expanded. "The kingdom of heaven means glory to the righteous, and everlasting life; misery and everlasting destruction to the wicked. The time is near, hasten to escape from the coming vengeance." The earnestness of Jesus, his acquaintance with the prophets, his self-denial and his constant kindness, endeared him to the common people. The same virtues had a like effect in the case of Buddha. Amongst villagers and poverty-stricken fishermen he soon won his way, and every one had some story to tell of him, which increased in wonder as it passed from mouth to ears, and from these to the tongue of the listeners. Those who know how an ordinary circumstance may gradually become described as miraculous, even in England, can well imagine how the miracles of Jesus and Siddartha were produced.

In time Jesus endeavoured to induce the magnates of Jerusalem to adopt his doctrine, and to trust in repentance for salvation rather than in sacrifice, but the enthusiast could not overcome the ritualists, and they at once began to weigh their power against the influence of Jesus upon the multitude. After a time the priests were convinced that supremacy rested with them, and the man who preached a religion of the heart, was sacrificed by the adherents of ceremonial. Such a fight is common, as we see around us. The Evangelicals and the Ritualists of to-day, resemble the followers of Jesus and of Moses. When the latter appeared in the guise of powerful Romanist rulers, they put down the former, but now when the former are the strongest, they endeavour to depress the latter.

After the death, or the withdrawal of Jesus from public life—for we have no belief in the legends of his resurrection—considering that his apparent decease was a prolonged fainting fit, for had he been dead blood would not have followed a spear wound as it did—the disciples of Jesus spread his fame largely. Whilst Jesus was with them they clung to him; when he was no more, each man became a preacher, and then Christianity spread until it met with Buddhism in Egypt, and thus became developed in a peculiar direction. Then came the gospels, which made Jesus a second Sakya. Although we can readily conceive that Jesus, like his paltry successor, Joe Smith, the Mormon, captivated the minds of hundreds without performing any supernatural deed, and that his "elders" vastly increased the number of those who believed in him, yet it is clear, that ancient and modern theologians were and are anxious to establish the reality of the thaumaturgy attributed to Jesus, that they may appeal to it to demonstrate that he was the son of God, an incarnation of a portion of the creative mind—"the word," or logos, having the same relationship to Jehovah, the "I Am," the Self-Existent One, as Buddha, "the understanding" had to "Brahma," The Supreme One.

Accepting this issue for the sake of argument, we affirm once again that, as the miracles of Sakya and of the son of Mary are equally unreliable, or equally true, Buddha was as much a true son of God as Christ was, or that Jesus was no more an incarnation of Jehovah, than Siddartha was of Brahma. Jehovah and Brahma being merely different names for the same great Being. That miracles are not necessary to the spread of a new faith, the history of modern Presbyterianism and Mormonism distinctly proves. For further remarks, we refer the reader to the article Miracle in the preceding volume. We will postpone to a subsequent page what we have to say respecting the asceticism of the Buddhists, and that which was prevalent in the early Christian church. For the present, we resume our account of Sakya Muni's teaching as described by St. Hilaire.

Founded upon his doctrine of absolute humility, he established the custom of confession amongst his apostles or disciples, and amongst those who venerated his teaching, though they did not' become his immediate followers. This confession was not that simply auricular one enforced by Ritualists, but it was made twice a month, at the new and the full moon, before the great Sramana and the congregation, in a clear voice. Powerful kings are reported to have followed this practice.

It will not require more than a minute's reflection to see that the Buddhistic system of confession was far superior—as regards the end in view—than that which has been adopted by Romanists and Ritualists. Sakya and James (ch. v. 16) advised the practice in question, that the sinner might be humiliated in his own eyes, and deterred from the necessity of having again to acknowledge a fall from virtue before a congregation of the faithful. Popes and Protestant Ritualists, on the contrary, use confession for the purpose of inquiring into the character of every penitent, and the practice is adopted by the sinner, not with the view of repentance, but to wipe out periodically a sin which is habitually renewed.

If confessions were made before a congregation, instead of to a priest in a closet, or some other secret spot, there would not then be current so many scandalous stories as there are—too true, alas, in many instances—respecting women who have been debauched under the guise of religion, and priests who have prostituted the ordinances of their church, until they have made them pander to vice, and act as seeds to produce immorality.

Though personally Tathâgata preached celibacy, he had not, like some of the so-called saints of Christianity, any feeling of disrespect towards family ties. He always spoke affectionately of his mother, though he never knew her, and the legends say that he endeavoured to convert her in heaven. His command that all his followers should honour their father and mother was repeatedly enforced, that being only second to the duty of learning, venerating, and keeping the law. It even went so high as to include endeavours to teach the parents if they were ignorant.

One of the main duties of every teacher appointed by Siddartha, was to go about preaching the law, and exhorting his hearers to learn and to obey it. But no one, on any account, was to introduce the persecuting element. No respect whatever was to be paid to caste, all being alike human before God. Buddha himself is described as a very striking preacher, charming his hearers by his clear and eloquent diction, astonishing them by his supernatural power, sometimes instructing the common folk with ingenious parables, and inciting them to emulation by telling what others had done. He referred to the sins which had been committed in former days by an ancient people, and how severely punished those who had committed them had been, or still were, and he even recorded his own faults, that others might learn to avoid them. He urged all his hearers to cultivate truth and reason, which is certainly not a Christian practice, and not blindly to obey their spiritual guides, as the modern faithful are taught to do. By making the practice of every virtue the sole means for attaining eternal salvation, he practically discouraged vice, but it does not appear that he endeavoured actively to denounce immorality, sin, or sinners. He did not, like many modern persons, "compound for sins they are inclined to, by damning those they have no mind to." It is distinctly declared that it was not necessary for ordinary followers of Buddha to become what is called "religious," or "to enter into religion," as friars, monks, &c. To those who preferred an ordinary mode of life, instructions were given, that they should cultivate charity, purity, patience, courage, contemplation, and knowledge. Indeed, we may assert that the precepts of Jesus, as recorded in Matthew v., vi, and viii, and in Luke iii. 7 to 14, are not essentially different from those propounded by Sakya Muni Neither the one nor the other ordered or even recommended all men to be celibate, all men to become poor, all soldiers to leave their profession—but both urged upon every one who wished for salvation, to be kind, pure, patient, courageous, thoughtful and eager after all knowledge. It would be well if those calling themselves Christians would endeavour more fully to understand that cultivating science is the same as advancing in the knowledge of God.

Some of the remarkable parables found in Buddhist books are very probably the original ones of Sakya; they are certainly ingeniously framed to illustrate his doctrine. Nor is there wanting, indeed, one in which there is an episode resembling the story of the thief upon the cross. It is of a lovely courtesan who falls deeply in love with a jeweller, young, and a devoted follower of Buddha, and solicits his company. To every message she sends him, he returns the answer "it is not time for you to see me." At length she commits a crime, and is sentenced to have ears, nose, hands, and feet cut off, and to be carried to the graveyard to die, leaving the cut off members at her ankles. At this period the young man visits her, to see the true nature of those joys which drown men in perdition; then he consoles the poor creature by teaching her the law; his discourse brings calm into her breast, and she dies in professing Buddhism with a certainty that she will rise again amongst the good.

We may mention, in passing, that there were female Buddhists as well as males, both being on the same footing. The law, as announced by Sakya, equally concerned and affected the two sexes.

Another and very interesting parable tells of a king who came before a Buddhist priest and his assembled hearers, to the number of 350, to confess his crimes, amongst others murder, and his resolution to avoid all faults in future, and Bhagavat (the teacher's name) at once remits, in conformity with the law, the faults of the king, which have thus been expiated before a numerous assembly of the faithful, a remarkable instance of remorse, repentance, confession, and remission of sin—some centuries before Jesus was born.

At length a powerful king, Asoka, was converted to the new faith, or came to the throne already a Buddhist, in the year b.c. 263, and reigned thirty-seven years, during which time he devoted himself to spreading the religion of his choice. He sent out a cloud of earnest missionaries who spread themselves over Hindostan, Ceylon, China, Japan, and Thibet. Indeed, they seem to have gone wherever there was means of locomotion, or a knowledge of the existence of a people. As the Greeks were then certainly trading with India, both by land and sea, it would be surprising if the Buddhist missionaries had not accompanied the merchant ships, or the overland convoys to Alexandria. But this subject, it is convenient for the present to postpone.

There are two points connected with the teaching of Sakya Muni to which many Christian writers have especially addressed their remarks, apparently with the view of rendering Buddha more or less contemptible, or at least of degrading him far below Jesus of Nazareth. It is asserted that Siddartha did not believe in a god, and that his Nirvana was nothing more than absolute annihilation. To these I am disposed to add, that the Buddhists were not taught to pray, nor did their founder practise the custom.

To my own mind, the assertion that Sakya did not believe in God is wholly unsupported. Nay, his whole scheme is built upon the belief that there are powers above which are capable of punishing mankind for their sins. It is true that these "gods" were not called Elohim, nor Jah, nor Jahveh, nor Jehovah, nor Adonai, nor Eliieh (I am), nor Baalim, nor Ashtoreth—yet, for "the son of Suddhodana" (another name for Sakya Muni, for he has almost as many, if not more than the western god), there was a supreme being called Brahma, or some other name representing the same idea as we entertain of the Omnipotent. Still further, in the life of Buddha, quoted by St. Hilaire (p. 9) we find the following as part of the thoughts of the young Siddartha—"The three worlds, the world of the gods, the world of the assours (the benighted ones, or, as we should call them, 'the devils ), and that of men, are all plagued by the occurrence of old age and disease." We do not, for we dare not assert that this opinion is identical with ours; but we are equally indisposed to say that the opinions current amongst ourselves are absolutely true.

Men living in future days, and whose minds are educated, will probably declare, "that the Christians of Europe and elsewhere, for nearly two thousand years, had no god but the devil They said he was good, but they painted him as one who rejoiced in pain, lamentation, mourning, and woe." Buddha preached that man suffered from the effects of his sins, and that unless he attained salvation, he would be punished everlastingly. The son of Mary, and all his followers, taught, and Christians still entertain the belief, that man suffers from the sin of a progenitor (assumed to be the parent of all mankind), and that each person will be tortured throughout eternity unless he is able to mollify his maker, who is also his judge. Both teachers had necessarily an idea of a power able to make laws for the conduct of human life, to ordain rewards for good behaviour, and to apportion punishment for offences, and yet who was sufficiently forgiving to cease from requital, "for a consideration," the bribe being invariably a bloody one. Jesus called this power "my Father," Siddartha called him Brahma, the Supreme one.

Jesus and his followers have asserted that the power of the son with "the Father" is so great, that the latter will conform to the former, nay, he even asserts his identity with the Supreme in the words "I and my father are one," (John x. 30). See also Acts iv. 12, and 1 Thess. v. 9, in which it is distinctly affirmed that Jesus is the sole means by which man can attain salvation, or, in other words, turn away the wrath of God and change it into love. But Jesus could only rise to the position of equal or prime favourite by a very sanguinary process, as we find from Heb. ix. 22, that there could be no remission of sin without shedding of blood. From the following verses, and from Heb. x. 19, we learn that it is by the sacrifice of himself that Jesus entered into his heavenly powers.

Can any one who depicts the gods of savages, of Grecians and others to whom human beings were immolated in hundreds, call such deities "devils," and then assert that the Jehovah, whom he extols as above all gods, is not painted by men in the same colours. Siddartha's god was not a sanguinary one, nor did Buddha always talk of shedding blood, or profess to give his disciples his own flesh to eat, and his blood to them, that they might all drink of it.

The way in which this Supreme One, Brahma, was painted at his time was accepted by Sakya as he found it. He no more questioned the accepted truths of Hindooism, than Jesus doubted about the absolute truth of the Hebrew scriptures. But, in his own mind, after he had contemplated deeply on the subject, he believed that the discovery which he had made of the way to Nirvana, universal knowledge, or whatever else Nirvana was, had raised him above Sakra Brahma, Mahesvara, and all the gods of the pantheon.

Instead of breaking into expressions respecting the insanity or the blasphemy of such an idea, let us school ourselves into calmness, and turn to our own New Testament and read over Philippians, chap, ii. vv. 5-11, "Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus, who being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God, but made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men, and being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross: wherefore God hath highly exalted him, and given him a name which is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth and things under the earth, and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord to the glory of God the Father."

Still further, I have repeatedly heard Protestant Christian divines assert that Jesus was really "Lord of the world above," and I cannot see any greater insanity or blasphemy in the son of Suddodana believing that he was at least equal with God, than in the son of Mary asserting "I and my Father are one" (John x. 30), and when reproached for making himself thus equal with God, he is reported to have remonstrated with his auditors who accused him of blasphemy because he asserted himself to be the son of God. The creeds of the Anglican and Roman churches repeatedly declare the identity of Jesus with Jehovah, e.g., "equal to the Father as touching his godhead."

The natural rejoinder to this representation is the assertion by the Christian that he knows that Jesus of Nazareth really was what he represented himself, and he is sure that Sakya Muni was not; but, on the other hand, the Buddhist may say just the reverse with equal pertinacity. This argument, if such a name it really deserves, is so common amongst all careless religionists, that it deserves a few words in reply. It is based upon the very natural notion, "what I believe, must be true," and to an objector, the only answer is the question, "you don't fancy that I can be wrong, do you?" When two such persons as a Christian and a Mahometan met in days gone by, these were the only arguments used by each, and they were first of all enforced by such revilings as come naturally to the faithful—"hound of a Moslem"—"dog of a Christian," "you are a serpent"—"you are a viper," and the like; from words they came to blows, and the strongest arm was supposed to demonstrate the correctness of the victor's faith. If, instead of taking physical strength as a test of truth, we assume that a numerical preponderance on one side or another proves the correctness of the belief held by the greatest number, we come to the absurd conclusion that what is right to-day may be wrong to-morrow. Babylonians were once far more numerous than Jews, and Jews than Christians, to-day the last exceed vastly both the others. Now, there are more Buddhists in existence than true followers of Jesus, in the next century the proportion may be reversed.

Truth does not so fluctuate, and a philosopher who uses his reason will take up a different stand entirely, and affirm that a man cannot become God by meditation, fancy or assertion, nor yet by the consent or vote of millions of his fellow-men, and that the assumption that any individual must be, and is the begotten son of God, is on a par with the folly of the potentates who call themselves brothers of the sun and moon. Such absurdity and blasphemy are very common, nevertheless, and men believe that Jesus is God, because they have elected him to that elevated position by a general vote—or European plebiscite.

We now address ourselves to another important statement made by some writers upon the religion of Sakya Muni, to the effect that he taught annihilation to be the end most desirable for good men who have learned and practised the law. This view is held by St. Hilaire, who, in almost every other respect, has shown himself an historian rather favourable to Siddartha than otherwise, and who speaks with some regret of the conclusion which he feels obliged to draw. But he is opposed upon this point by a very great English or German authority, viz., Max Müller, who, in a lecture delivered before the general Meeting of the Association of German Philologists at Kiel, and which is to be found translated in Trubner's American and Oriental Literary Record, Oct. 16, 1869, distinctly declares his belief that the nihilism attributed to Buddha's teaching forms no part of his doctrine, and that it is wholly wrong to suppose that Nirvana signified annihilation.

When two such earnest inquirers differ, it is instructive to notice the reason why. This is to be found in the fact that the etymological signification of the word does signify "nothingness," or "extinction," but not, as Müller contends, annihilation of the individual, but a complete cessation of all pain and misery. The last quoted author shows that Siddartha used Nirvana as synonymous with Moksha, Nirvritti, and other words, all designating the highest state of spiritual liberty and bliss, but not annihilation. It seems to be perfectly clear that what was meant by Sakya is, that to the good who have embraced the means of salvation preached by him, the future world would be a haven of rest, in which all sorrow, suffering, and sin should be annihilated. But the teacher does not go beyond this, and descant upon the opposite conditions, and promise joys ineffable and full of glory. His followers believe that they will attain to immortality, and that they will be free from all such horrors as life brings with it. But the pleasures which they expect are negative.

Before we either pity or despise Siddartha for not giving his followers any idea of what we call Heaven, it would be well to endeavour to discover the true teaching of Jesus of Nazareth upon this point, and the ideas of his followers. We must also say a few words about his ideas of Hell. He clearly believed that there was a place in which those whose lives had been wicked would be punished after death by the devil and his angels—the place was one of outer darkness, where shall be weeping and wailing, and gnashing of teeth (Matt. viii. 12). In Matt. xiii. 42 this place of outer darkness is described as "a furnace of fire," and in Mark ix. 43-44 this fire is described as one that never shall be quenched, and in which there lives a worm. In Luke xvi. 23-24 there is an expression of the belief that the body lives after death in its usual form, and has eyes, a tongue, the power of speech, &c.; yet in Matt. x. 28 the doctrine is inculcated that both body and soul are destroyed in Hell. In Jude 7 and 13 Hell is again described as a place of unquenchable fire, and yet one occupied by the blackness of darkness; whilst in Revelation xix. 20 and xx. 10 we are told that the fire is a lake of burning brimstone. Of the absolute locality of this horrible spot not a word is said.

On the other hand, Heaven is described (Matt xiii. 43) as a place where the righteous shall shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of God. In Luke xvi. 22 the pleasure of Heaven is made to consist of a simple repose in the bosom of Abraham; but though we are there led to believe that the blessed can see the torments of the damned, it does not appear that either "the father of the faithful," or the poor beggar Lazarus, take any pleasure in contemplating them, as some few divines of the church of England believe that they will do, when they have arrived at the abode of bliss, and see their enemies in the burning lake. Paul, when writing to the Corinthians, (1 Ep. xv.) gives his idea of the resurrection of the just as one in which each man will be a spiritual edition of his former terrestrial self, but beyond the statement in 1 Thess. iv. 17, that the redeemed will, when in heaven, dwell for ever with the Lord, he expresses no opinion of the occupation of the glorified ones. In John's gospel (xiv. 2) Jesus is reported as saying,—"In my Father's house are many mansions or houses—I go to prepare a place for you," but there is nothing like any account of what is to be done in those abodes.

Again, we find, Ps. xvi. 11, in a verse which has been largely adapted to Christianity, an idea of Heaven given thus—"in thy presence is fulness of joy, at thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore." What David's pleasures were we may judge from his life, and we may fairly imagine that the writer of the passage had an idea something like that of Mahomet—that there were houris in Heaven for the delectation of the faithful. But in Isaiah lxiv. 4, and I Cor. ii. 9 everything about Heaven is declared to be vague—a something which the eye has not seen, the ear heard, or the heart conceived.

In the book called The Revelation of St. John the Divine, we have a far more detailed account of what was believed by some about heaven, than in any other, and there is no doubt that to it a large number of Christians appeal, for it is, indeed, almost the only foundation on which they can build. Yet the Apocalypse was for a long time an uncanonical book, and its truth and value were, and still are, doubted by many of the faithful. In the part referred to, heaven is described as a place incalculably rich in gold and precious stones, in music and pleasant odours, and its joys are pour-trayed as consisting in constant contact with the evidences of wealth, and in eternally singing a certain refrain, an hour of which would be a great trial to human ears. To this is added the absence of pain, sorrow, and suffering. The New Jerusalem, described in chapter xxi. is nothing more than a palace similar to that of Aladdin, which is described in The Arabian Nights? fabulously adorned with gems, lighted by other means than a burning sun or a cold moon, cooled or refreshed with a river of clear water, and furnished with trees bearing different kinds of fruit, but all delicious—thus involving the certainty that the singing referred to, must have been suspended whilst the palate was regaled—and having leaves said to be for the healing of the nations. The words thus italicised seem to show the indefiniteness of the idea, we dare not say of the knowledge of John, for the existence of this new Jerusalem involves the absence of any disease which required healing; and every person who was not already assigned to the brimstone lake, was a resident on the margin of the crystal river. Such discrepancies are common in visionary writings, and ought to make us distrust them; but instead of that, wild theories are founded upon these absurdities, and the builders thence attempt to prove their own superior knowledge. Well, in this new Jerusalem, every man is to be a ruler, for we are told, that in it the servants of the Lamb (chap. xxii. 3 sq.) shall serve him, and see his face, that his name shall be written upon their foreheads, and they shall reign for ever and ever. The word italicised, very naturally recalls to us an earlier passage in the same book (chap, i. 6) wherein the writer expresses the belief that Jesus Christ has made his followers "kings and priests." It is then clear that John had the notion that in heaven every denizen would be a king. But king over whom? or over what? if every one in new Jerusalem is a ruler, what is he a ruler of? It is, to the critic, moderately certain, that all which the words are intended to convey is, that every inhabitant of the New Jerusalem or Heaven will be as rich and happy as a mundane sovereign. This, again, involves the belief that the author of the Apocalypse had an essentially sensual idea of Heaven, and that he pourtrayed it as a man would do, who, pining in misery, suffering from disease, pinched with want, obliged to serve as the slave of wealth, and to contribute much, out of his little, to the king's taxes, saw daily, and envied deeply, the high position and great wealth of a tyrant, with whom, his faith induced him to believe, that he would change places hereafter.

That the descriptions of Heaven in Revelation can be considered as reliable, by any thoughtful Christian, I marvel, for they are bound up with an assurance which the lapse of time has fully demonstrated to be false. In chap, xxii., v. 12 and 20, the one who is described as the Lord of the New Jerusalem, the Christian Heaven, asserts that he is coming quickly, and that his reward is with him. Yet in no sense of the words is this true, nor has it ever been so.

Tested, then, by every available means, we assert that the Heaven described by Jesus of Nazareth and his immediate followers is quite as vague, indistinct, and unreliable as the Buddhist Nirvana; or, if the affirmative be preferred, we say that the Christian Heaven is quite as uncertain or indefinite a prize for Jesus' disciples as the Nirvana of Sakya. Both teachers seem to have been equally confident of the existence of a Hell, and equally cautious in expressing their ideas about a Heaven. And we, who have had the advantage of many centuries of civilization and thought, dare no more frame or promulgate a scheme of Elysium than the Romans did—we really know nothing whatever about a future state.

There is this, however, to be said in favour of Siddartha—he did not, like Mahomet and John, preach a Paradise, in which all the pleasures are worldly, sensuous, or sensual—John promising music and fruit, Mahomet feasting and women. All the Indian's teaching pointed to a future world, in which human passions, frailties, and propensities would find no place, for the purified being would cast off, with his earthly body, every carnal appetite. In fact, there is reason to believe that Buddha's idea was, that after death each essence would become reincorporated with the Great Spirit, of whom his soul had originally formed a part. It is doubtful whether any of us could tell him a more perfect way to the truth about the matter.

Yet, although neither Sakya nor Jesus gave any distinct account of Heaven, it is certain that some of their followers have done so, and it is remarkable to see how they have developed their ideas in the same way. Compare, for example, the account given by John, Apocalypse chaps, xxi., xxii., with the following account, which I copy from the Kusa Iatakya, a Buddhistic legend of Ceylon, by T. Steele, p. 195. "Swarga, or the heaven occupied by Indra, is described as the most splendid the human mind can conceive (Percival's Land of the Vedas, p. 160). Its palaces are composed of pure gold, resplendent diamonds, jasper, sapphire, emerald, and other precious stones, whose brilliance exceeds that of a thousand suns! Its streets are of crystal, fringed with gold. The most beautiful and fragrant flowers adorn its forests, whose trees diffuse the sweetest odours. Refreshing breezes, canopies of fleecy clouds, thrones of the most dazzling brightness, birds of the sweetest melodies, and songs of the most delightful harmony, are heard in the enchanting pleasaunces, which are ever fragrant, ever robed in summer green." The author whom I am quoting follows these remarks with lines from Bernard de Morley's hymn, Jerusalem the Golden, clearly showing how greatly he has been struck with the parallelism between the Buddhist and Christian idea.

So far as I can find, there appears to be a certainty that Sakya Muni did not teach to his followers the necessity for prayer. That Jesus did so teach his disciples is the common belief of Christians. Yet, in the parallel which we are thus drawing, we are perfectly justified in the assertion that the son of Mary did not teach it from his own spontaneous judgment, as John the Evangelist had done before him. Jesus certainly did not originate prayer; indeed, it appears that the subject was forced upon him, and that unless he had been urged to it, he would neither have taught to others the necessity for prayer, nor have dictated the supplication which still passes by his name. The following passage in Luke xi. 1 seems to be decisive upon this point:—"And it came to pass, as he was praying in a certain place, one of his disciples said unto him, Lord, teach us to pray, as John also taught his disciples." We see, then, in the first place, that Jesus did not hold, as a fundamental doctrine, that prayer was part of the duty of man, but that he took it up as a necessary part of his Jewish education, and adopted it amongst the subjects of his discourses, following the example of John. When we try to penetrate into the mind of Jesus, as shown in "the Lord's Prayer," and ascertain what he regarded as the fittest objects for orison, we find that they are almost exclusively worldly. There is, in the first place, an ascription of praise, or of reverence, then an expression of a desire that the world should become good; that each man should have a daily meal; that all offences should be condoned, and none others committed; and that no harm should happen to any who used the entreaty. Compared with the composition attributed to Solomon, and said to have been uttered by him at the dedication of the temple, that which is said to have been given by Jesus is meagre in the extreme. It does not contain a single supplication for spiritual blessing, or for salvation.

In the mind of a philosopher there is a doubt whether the general heathen notion about prayer, or the apparent Buddhist prayerlessness, is to be the most commended. Yet, ere we discuss the point, I must remark that although Buddha does not appear to have taught the duty of prayer to his disciples, they practise it nevertheless, and have long litanies, chantings, and mechanical contrivances quite as efficacious, and not more absurd, than the senseless repetitions which pass current amongst us for supplications to the Most High. Now, if we require from ourselves a distinct answer to the question, what is prayer? we can frame no other than this—"it is the expression of a desire on our part that the Creator will modify the laws of nature in our favour, in favour of others, or in His own favour!" The idea that He will do this is plainly builded upon the supposition that the Creator is like a man, and can be induced to change His mind—that a creature thinks He is harsh or wrong, and must be set right. When put thus clearly, the most obtuse can see that prayer must necessarily be inefficacious, and must always proceed from a selfishness so intense as to cloak the blasphemy from view.

If, instead of the above definition, we designate prayer as the uttering of a fervent hope or desire for the benefit of an individual, we can understand that it is quite as useful as any other ejaculation. Nothing is more common than for an angry man to curse with all the energy of exasperation; nothing more common than for a punished hound to yelp, and for a child, when pained, to cry or roar. Still further I will say, from personal experience, that the utterance of cries or groans enables an individual to bear pain with less effect upon his nervous system than would be felt if they were suppressed. Vociferations are as natural, and, to some, as necessary as indulging the appetite for hunger. In like manner, when the mind of man, especially of one only partially educated, is dominated by intense fear, or by any form of anxiety or present suffering, there is an instinctive propensity to seek aid from any source, certain or uncertain, and the enunciation of hopes with an audible voice is as much necessary to some as roaring is to a lion, or bleating to a sheep. In this sense prayer is a comfort—it helps to soothe feelings which, if pent up, would become, probably, too great for endurance; and, knowing this, I would no more deride prayer than I would laugh at a baby who cried for his absent mother.

I do not doubt, in the smallest possible degree, that prayer is a comfort under certain circumstances. For example, my child may be seriously ill, and I may do everything which my medical knowledge enables me to do; but day by day drags wearily along, the fever seems to intensify, and it is clear that there is a struggle between the living force, and the agent which interferes with it. As hour after hour passes, and anxiety deepens into fear, I am like a hardy fellow under the lash: at first the stripes are borne with firmness, but as another and another falls, not only does-the pain seem keener, but the mental power which gives courage to bear the cutting agony diminishes, and the pent-up feelings are vented in a roar of anguish, or a groan of despair. Just so in the depth of my misery I may utter a prayer—a wish that in one way or another my torn and lacerated feelings as a father might be healed, and I may expect to receive solace thereby, no matter whether I address Jehovah, Brahma, Ishtar, or the Virgin Mary. To hear the sound of one's own voice, even the task of having to compose an intelligible sentence, relieves, for a time, the poignancy of grief, and thus helps one to bear it more patiently. That supplication thus brings relief I do not for a moment doubt, but that it has any influence in the result I deny.

Entertaining this view, I cannot regard prayer as a duty. It seems to me to be a deliberate insult to the Almighty to be constantly urging Him to alter the course of nature—or as we may otherwise put it "to change His mind." To trust that prayer will obviate the necessity for action seems to me the height of folly. If a man uttered the words "Give me this day my daily bread" a hundred times over, and yet never sought to obtain it, we should regard him as a lunatic. Equally silly should we be if, when praying "Defend us in all assaults of our enemies," we did not prepare for battle—or if, after ejaculating "defend us from all perils and dangers of this night," we were to go to bed without seeing that our premises were as secure as forethought could make them. However much the theologian may believe in prayer, he cannot deny that it is less efficacious than action. Now Buddha preached action whilst Christ preached inaction, e.g., "take no thought for the morrow," &c. (Matt. vi. 25-34), consequently we are more disposed to give the palm for correct judgment to the Indian than to the Jew.

We must, in the next place, notice that many followers of the son of Suddodana and the son of Mary have both acted, and do still act, upon the belief, not only that prayer is a duty, but that every supplication has positive power in the world above—consequently the more extended the utterances the greater their influence. In point of fact, prayers are spoken of as if they were equivalent to sacrifice, alms-giving, or any other supposed virtue. For this there seems to be some foundation in Acts x. 4, where Cornelius is told that his prayers and his alms have come up before God; in James v. vv. 15, 16, we are told that "the prayer of faith shall save the sick;" and that "the effectual, fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much." In Revelation v. 8, we are told that the prayers of the saints are kept in golden vials in heaven, and used as odours. In chapter viii. 3, we find they are offered with incense upon the celestial altar, and that the two conjointly come before the presence of God. This being so, there is a desire to accumulate prayers on the creditor side of the heavenly books, just as in the days when sacrifices were trusted in, there was an attempt to increase their influence by augmenting the number of the creatures slaughtered. This propensity to multiply orisons was distinctly rebuked by Jesus, who ordered his followers not to make vain repetitions, for that the custom was heathenish and to be avoided; a prohibition which had been made by Siddartha to his followers some centuries before.

To me, I confess, that a life of perpetual prayer without action indicates a belief that God can be "pestered" into doing something that He did not intend; and that it is infinitely worse than a life of action such as Sakya Muni inculcated. I can see no sense in praying for something that I do not want, or that I cannot have without personal exertion. It seems to me sheer nonsense for anyone to pray that he may not grow older, and equally foolish to supplicate that he may live to be a king. In like manner it would be silly in me to petition for power to read Assyrian writing, and yet never study its characters. If, then, by diligent and steady plodding a man can attain his desire, it appears wholly useless in him to pray for it. We may say the same of one who wishes to curb his passions—he can do so to a great extent by assiduous self-control; but he cannot do so any more completely by a lifetime passed in prayer. From this point of view, therefore, we must again side with Siddartha rather than with Jesus.

It now remains to us to make some observations upon the developments of Buddhism after the death of Sakya Muni, but we need not linger over them long. His doctrine of self-denial, of patient suffering, of celibacy, of fasting, of preaching and of meditation, gradually produced a system in which asceticism, solitude, and penance were the prevalent duties. Men and women desirous of being saintly and of attaining to eternal happiness, selected some den, cave, or tree in which they could live a life devoted to contemplation, or else they banded themselves into companies where they could practise the Buddhistic virtues in each other's presence, and one could encourage or correct another. Buddhist monkeries and nunneries are almost as common, and certainly more ancient than Roman Catholic monasteries, and they had very nearly the same numerous accessories in worship, which we are familiar with in papal countries. It is almost impossible to read the accounts given by the Abbé Hue, and other Eastern travellers, of Buddhism in China, Thibet, and Japan, without seeing the close resemblance of the Roman Church to that founded by Siddartha. Indeed, the Abbé was sorely tried by what he saw; and it is rumoured that he was punished by some ecclesiastical authority, and his book suppressed. Pure Buddhism, moreover, was, like pure Christianity, a very painful religion in practice, consequently both the one and the other have degenerated, and have gradually become altered much in the same way—both having amalgamated themselves with other systems, and having gradually eliminated those proceedings which are most repulsive to human nature. In both there is now, apparently, the idea that the ascetic life may be lived, as it were, by deputy. In Buddhism, certain men obtain their living by fasting, meditating, macerating their flesh, and praying instead of other people, being, of course, adequately paid for their endurance of privation. In a branch of the Church founded by Jesus the same notion has obtained, and men who have wallowed in filth, starved themselves, and spent their days in a miserable round of penance and prayer, are dignified by the name of Saints, and are supposed to be able to hand over—for a consideration in money—the benefit of their sufferings to people who wish to live comfortably as well as piously.

Without burdening this chapter with a dissertation upon the Romish doctrine of works of supererogation, I will quote a few extracts from the Roman Missal, in use in England, to show that works done by another can be made available for the use of any particular individual. On January 16, the day of Saint Marcellus, the people are told to pray "that we may be aided by the merits of blessed Marcellus, Thy martyr and bishop, in whose sufferings we rejoice." On January 29, the day of Saint Francis of Sales, we find in the prayer to be used by the people, "mercifully grant that we may by the aid of his merits, attain unto the joys of life everlasting." Again, on February 8, the day of Saint John of Matha, we find in the prescribed prayer, "mercifully grant that by his merits pleading for us, we may be," &c.—and, lastly, we notice on March 19, on Saint Joseph's day, "vouchsafe, O Lord, that we may be helped by the merits of Thy most holy mother's spouse," &c. The practice of the Buddhists is then essentially followed by the Roman Christians.

Pure Buddhism was wholly free from the sexual element so common in other religions of antiquity, and so was the religion of Jesus. Yet in Thibet the first became intermingled therewith and Vajrasatta or Dorjesempa the Thibetan "God above all," is represented in Schlayintweit's Atlas of Plates as a male conjoined with a female; but so ingenious is the contrivance that the many might see the drawings without noticing anything particular, for the trinity and the unity are both hidden from view; and in Europe the latter has introduced St. Foutin and St. Cosmo into her calendar, and has founded her worship of a trinity and a virgin upon the pagan reverence given to the creative organs in both sexes. Veneration for a triune God and his female consort is no more a portion of the teaching of the son of Mary than it was the doctrine of the child of Maya Devi, Buddha's mother.

It will probably be quite as difficult for the reader of the preceding pages, as it has been for the writer of them, to avoid putting the question to himself, "Was Jesus of Nazareth a Buddhist disciple?" In answer to this question I reply that we have no direct proof either on one side or the other, but there is much circumstantial evidence to show that he was. We may marshal it thus:—

1. There is very strong reason for belief that the intercourse between the inhabitants of India and the successors of Alexander was considerable. For example, we find before the time of the Maccabees, b.c. 280, or perhaps somewhat later, that Antiochus, the king of Syria, had 120 elephants—things which had never before been seen in Syria, Palestine, or Egypt, and which took their local name from the Phoenician aleph, a bull—the Jews supposing that they were a new kind of cattle. From the accounts given us we infer that these were Indian, and were trained either by Hindoo mahouts or by Greeks taught in Hindustan. Animals of this size may have come by land or by water. In either case we have evidence of traffic. We have already seen that the great missionary effort of Buddhism took place in the time of Asoka about B.C. 307, and it is not likely that the West would be neglected when the Eastern countries received such attention as they did. The Greeks had by this time found their way by sea to India, and thus it is certain that the route was known. There is then presumptive evidence that Buddhism was taught amongst the people frequenting the kingdom of Antiochus the Second, B.C. 261. At this period and subsequently, this king and his subjects came much into contact with the Jews, so that it is equally easy to believe that the Hebrews were found out by the Hindoo missionaries as that the Alexandrian Greeks were.

2. I have been unable to find in the Jewish law, in Grecian story, in the accounts of old Babylonians, Carthaginians, Romans, Egyptians, or in any other history except that of India, testimony which shows that asceticism was an essential part of religion. It is true that we do find fasting to be occasionally mentioned in the Old Testament as a sign of grief or of abasement,* but never as a means of gaining salvation in a future life—whose very existence was unknown to Moses and the Jews. The observation of a period of hunger formed no part of the Mosaic law. On the contrary, ancient European religions, and those of Egypt and Western Asia were associated with feasting and jollification (see Deut. xiv. 26.) The Jews were encouraged to indulge in a plurality of wives; but they were nowhere directed or recommended to live on alms. Again, we find nowhere any orders to the priests or Levites to go about the country expounding or teaching the law. Consequently, when we notice the rise of asceticism, preaching, and celibacy, between the time of Antiochus and that of Jesus, we are justified in the belief that they were introduced from without, and by those of the only religion which inculcated them as articles of faith and practice.

         * In Lev. xvi. 30; xxiii. 27, 28; and Numb. xxix. 7, there
         are directions given to the Jews, that on a certain day they
         are "to afflict their souls," and a threat is added, that
         "whatsoever soul it be that shall not be afflicted in that
         self same day, he shall be cut off from amongst his people."
         There is no specific direction as to the method of
         afflicting the soul; but it is to be associated with
         absolute laziness, for whatever soul doeth any work on that
         day shall be destroyed (Lev. xxiii. 28-31). The law is
         evidently a very modern one, as we do not find it referred
         to in the Ancient Jewish records, and the idea of atonement
         was introduced by the Talmudic Pharisees.

3. The Hebrews always showed during the Old Testament times a great aptitude to adopt the faith of outsiders—and as the Jewish people were in great abasement and misery at the period when it is probable that the Buddhist missionaries came into Syria, they would be prepared for the doctrine that they were suffering for bygone sins. The idea that men in the present were sometimes punished for sins done in the past was a Hebrew as well as a Hindoo idea, else Saul's sons would not have been hanged for their father's misdeeds, or the Amalekites have been slaughtered by Samuel, because their forefathers had some centuries before fought with Israel and been conquered by Moses and Joshua.

4. That after the Persian reign it is certain, that three Jewish sects existed,—the Pharisees, the Essenes, and the Sadducees—the last alone being purely Mosaic, and the two first being very like the Buddhists.

To strengthen the links of evidence, we may now say a few words about the remarkable sect of the Essenes, premising our belief that it was founded by missionaries of the faith of Sakya Muni, whose doctrines and practice became, subsequently, modified by Mosaism, just as Christianity was considerably remoulded by Talmudism, or, to use an example nearer our own times, as the Christianity preached by European missionaries to the New Zealanders has been altered by the natives, in accordance with their ancient ideas. To them the Old Testament is the Bible, the New Testament is of no value.

The Essenes are described by the Rev. Dr Ginsburg, whose authority I follow (The Essenes. Longmans, London, 1864), as a Jewish sect of singular piety. They did not sacrifice animals, but endeavoured to make their own minds holy—fit for an acceptable offering to Jehovah. They provided themselves with just enough for the necessities of life, and held such goods as they possessed, e.g., clothes and cloaks, in common. They only allowed themselves to converse on such parts of philosophy as concern God and man. They abhorred slavery, but each served his neighbour. They respected the Sabbath. Their fundamental laws were, to love God, to love virtue, and to love mankind. They affected to despise money, fame, pleasures, professed the most strict chastity, or, rather, continence, and they practised endurance as a duty. They also cultivated simplicity, cheerfulness, modesty, and order. They lived together in the same houses and villages, and sustained the poor, the sick, and the aged. When they earned wages the money was paid to a common stock. They did not marry, or have children; but if any of their body chose to wed, there was nothing in the regulations to prevent their doing so, only they then had to enter another class of the brotherhood. When possible, they worked all day. They were highly respected by those who knew them, and were frequently receiving additions to their number. They seem to have resembled, in their habits and customs, a fraternity of monks of a working, rather than a mendicant, order. Pleasure they regarded as an evil, having a tendency to enchain man to earthly enjoyments, a peculiarly Buddhist tenet. Still further, they considered the use of ointment as defiling, which was certainly not a Hebraic doctrine; but they dressed decently. They prayed devoutly before sunrise; but until the orb had risen they never spoke of worldly matters. They gave thanks, and prayed before and after eating; and ere they entered the refectory bathed in pure water. The food provided was just sufficient to keep them alive. When a person wished to enter the community, he underwent a period of trial, and, if approved, he proceeded to take an oath—"to fear God; to be just towards all men; never to wrong anyone; to detest the wicked, and love the righteous; to keep faith with all men; not to be proud; not to try and outshine his neighbours in any matter; to love truth, and to try and reclaim all liars; never to steal or to cajole; never to conceal anything from the brotherhood, and to be reticent with outsiders." The Essenes reverenced Moses, and so great was their respect for the Sabbath, that they would not ease nature on that day. They bore all tortures with perfect equanimity, and fully believed in a future state of existence, in which the soul, liberated from the body, rejoices, and mounts upwards to a paradise, where there are no storms, no cold, and no intense heat, and where all are constantly refreshed by gentle ocean breezes. Josephus compares this sect with the Pythagoreans; and I think this fact is worth noticing, for there was, in old times, a strong opinion that the founder of that sect brought his peculiar opinions from Hindostan. Pliny, in writing of the Essenes, remarks that their usages differ from those of all other nations—which we may take as a demonstration that they did not copy their constitution from Greeks, Romans, or Jews. Respecting the origin of this sect nothing certain is known, beyond that they were in existence at the time of the Maccabees. Critics decline to see in them any direct relations to the Pythagoreans, and some imagine that the order sprung naturally out of a spiritual reading of the Mosaic law, modified, probably, by Persian or Chaldee notions.

It seems to me, however, that the tenets and practice of the Essenes indicate rather a Buddhist than a Mosaic origin, for celibacy is everywhere in the Old Testament spoken of as a misfortune, and abundance of wives as a proof of God's favour; and I imagine that some devout Indian missionary persuaded many pious Jews to listen to his doctrine, but that he was unable to convert them sufficiently to induce them to give up the law of Moses for that of Siddartha. I conceive still further, that John the Evangelist, and, subsequently, Jesus of Nazareth, were perfectly cognizant of the doctrines of the Essenes, if they were not members of the sect, and that there is nothing incredible in the idea that both these preachers were instructed by some Buddhist missionary, although neither was ever induced to give up his belief in the absolute truth of those Jewish writings, which both had been accustomed to regard as absolutely true and sacred.

We readily allow that our theory may be called a wild one, but we assert that, in reality, it is far otherwise. Of course a critic may say that John, and his follower, Jesus, were just as likely to have struck out a new theory of salvation as Sakya Muni was; or, if exceedingly orthodox, he may assume that the preaching of Jesus was the pure result of inspiration, not such as was given to the prophets by Jehovah, but emanating from himself as a source of absolute truth. But we demur to both assertions. The profound reverence that Mary's son showed, in the early part of his career, for the law and for the prophets, would have prevented his doing anything to upset the former in so marked a manner as he did, in respect to the Sabbath day and other matters (see Matthew v. 31, 32, 33, 34, 38, 39, 43, 44), unless there had been some strong influence, from without, brought to bear upon his mind, and to cast it in a different mould to that of Pharisee or Sadducee. Nor can we believe Jesus to have been inspired, unless we extend the same belief to Buddha's teaching, and believe that he also was a fountain of light and righteousness, which we certainly are not disposed to do.

Our hypothesis respecting a connection between the teaching of the Indian and the Hebrew, appears to be strengthened when we contemplate the distinction between the doctrines of the Jewish and the Hindoo sage. We have seen how they agree as regards the morality which they inculcate, the celibacy and poverty that they enjoin, the firm belief in preexistent, or original, sin, and in a future state of rewards or punishments. They differ in the veneration paid to antecedent authority. Sakya Muni believed in his own inspiration, and rejected the writings which were reverenced by his parents and Mends. Jesus seems to have believed that he was himself supplemental to Moses and the prophets. He did not want to destroy or to supersede them absolutely, as we learn from Matthew v. 17, and xxiii. 23. He had, apparently, an unbounded confidence in their truth, and, with an assurance in their sanctity, he spoke of their writings as the very words of God, and we shall see that the main, if not the only, points in which Jesus diverges from the Hindoo prophet were the products of the Hebrew's full belief in the sacred truth of the Jewish Scriptures.

The son of Mary taught, as the most important part of his doctrine, that the world would shortly come to an end, and that he was sent to show mankind, or, rather, the Jews, how to escape from the terrible catastrophe. I do not think it possible for anyone to read the words attributed to Jesus, and not recognize that this was the turning point upon which everything in his preaching hinged. Sakya Muni spoke of the future misery of all those who did not adopt his method of salvation; Jesus treated of the impending destruction of the whole world, of an immediate judgment of mankind, and of the certain punishment of the majority. That we are not uttering vague assertions we may show by reference to Matt. xxiv. 3, wherein we find certain disciples asking, "What shall be the sign of thy coming, and of the end of the world?" After a long preamble, telling of troubles and misery, we have the reply of Jesus in vv. 29 et seq.:—"Immediately after the tribulation of those days shall the sun be darkened, and the moon shall not give her light, and the stars shall fall from heaven, and the powers of the heavens shall be shaken: and then shall appear the sign of the Son of man in heaven: and then shall all the tribes of the earth mourn, and they shall see the Son of man coming in the clouds of heaven with power and great glory. And he shall send his angels with a great sound of a trumpet, and they shall gather together his elect from the four winds, from one end of heaven to another.... Verily I say unto you, This generation shall not pass, till all these things be fulfilled." This is substantially, and almost literally, repeated in Mark xiii. 26-30, and in Luke xxi. 32.*

         * I have heard the words of this preceding quotation handled
         by a great variety of divines, asserting themselves to be
         orthodox, and who hold the position of Christian ministers.
         All, without exception, profess to regard the expressions
         about the sun being darkened and the stars falling, as
         figurative or metaphorical, and each, according to his
         prevalent ideas, or to the pet theory of the day, explain
         the imagery as having a reference to some emperor, king,
         queen, general of armies, and I know not what besides. But,
         to anyone who examines the phraseology closely, it will be
         seen that the words are to be taken in their most literal
         sense. Jesus had, as we have shown, a firm belief in the
         immediate destruction of the world, and upon that theme he
         descants and dilates. Taking the Mosaic account of creation
         as strictly true to the letter, Jesus regarded the sun,
         moon, and stars as apanages of our earth, and very naturally
         drew the inference, that when the world was burned up, there
         would be no necessity for the celestial luminaries—the sun
         would cease to shine, the moon would be dark, and the stars
         fall from the sky under the influence of the same power that
         produced the mundane destruction. These defunct bodies would
         be replaced by a vast apparition, whose glory would exceed
         that of the ancient rulers of the day and night, and he who
         now stood on earth as a man of sorrows and acquainted with
         grief would be seen and recognized as the arbiter of the
         destinies of every man. The passages referred to in the text
         bear no other meaning than the one here assigned to them;
         nor would anyone, however wild "a divine" he might be, ever
         see, or endeavour to discover, in the words referred to, a
         hidden meaning, unless the solemn assertion of Jesus of his
         immediate advent in the clouds of heaven had been such a
         signal failure as time has proved it to be. We have always
         protested against those theologians who pronounce passages
         in the Bible to be metaphorical or literal as it suits the
         event, and we do so now. Why such men should insist upon it
         that everything in the Koran and Buddhistic books must be
         taken au pied de la lettre and that everything in the Bible
         may be allegorised, is a matter beyond my comprehension.
         They surely forget the dictum—"with what measure ye mete it
         shall be measured to you again" (Matt, vii. 2).

In Matthew x. we find Jesus sending out his disciples as missionaries, saying to them (v. 7), "as ye go, preach, saying, the kingdom of heaven is at hand," a doctrine previously proclaimed by John (Matt iii. 2), and based upon some words of Isaiah and the more precise presages in Daniel See also Matt iv. 14-17; Luke ix. 2, and x. 9. We find a yet more important reference in Matt. xi. 14, in which Jesus is reported to have said, when speaking of John, "If ye will receive it, this is Elias, which was for to come." The observation here made plainly refers to an utterance of the Jewish Malachi, who, in his last two chapters, foreshadows the advent of a messenger, who should immediately precede the coming of the Lord to judge the world. There is yet another passage, of almost equal force, in Matt. xvi. 27, 28—"For the Son of man shall come in the glory of the Father with his angels, and then shall he reward every man according to his works. Verily I say unto you, there be some standing here which shall not taste of death till they see the Son of man coming in his kingdom." In Matt. xix. 28 we read, "Jesus said unto them, Verily I say unto you, that ye which have followed me, in the regeneration, when the Son of man shall sit in the throne of his glory, ye also shall sit upon twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel," &c. Again, we see in Matt, xxv., after a parable intended to show the possibility of a sudden occurrence, the words, "Watch, therefore, for ye know neither the day nor the hour wherein the Son of man cometh." That this belief was due to the Jewish writings we judge from the frequent references made to them; and we may especially notice one which is attributed to Jesus after his resurrection, viz., "all things must be fulfilled which were written in the law of Moses, and in the prophets, and in the Psalms, concerning me." So firmly was the belief of an immediate judgment impressed upon the minds of Christians, that we find Paul affirming respecting it (1 Cor. xv.), "We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed... at the last trump" (vv. 31, 52). This is more decidedly enunciated in 1 Thess. iv. 15-17—"For this we say unto you by the word of the Lord, that we which are alive, and remain unto the coming of the Lord, shall not prevent them that are asleep. For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God, and the dead in Christ shall rise first. Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so shall we ever be with the Lord." Compare with this 2 Peter iii. 1-4, in which there is a repetition of the same leading idea, and with Acts i. 11, and ii. 16-36.

From these passages, it is unquestionable that Jesus preached that a destruction of the whole creation was imminent, and we, who have the light of history to guide us, can readily understand the powerful influence of the doctrine. We have read of panics, even in London, where some enthusiast has propounded the statement, that the world was to be destroyed upon a certain day, and can well believe, how a similar assertion would frighten ignorant, and, probably, learned Hebrew men. But, as time advanced, and generation after generation passed away, the original doctrine required to be modified. Yet it has never been quite given up, and to this day, a part of the system of Christianity is, to put faith in a second coming of Jesus, to judge the world. The "second coming" here referred to, frequently passes by the name of the Millennium, and earnest pietists believe that the son of Mary will come in the clouds of heaven with power and great glory, to punish all who do not believe in him; and to elevate the existing, and all other past saints, to be kings and priests in a new Jerusalem, wherein all will enjoy perfect happiness for a thousand years.

There is another point in connection between Buddha and Jesus, to which the biblical student should not fail to pay attention. The followers of the former had a perfect belief that each of them had lived in a previous state of existence. Upon this point not a doubt disturbed them. The disciples of the latter, however, had no such ideas, nor when propounded to them, did they apparently understand it. As far as we can judge from the first three Gospels, Jesus did not assert that he had ever existed prior to the time of his birth at Bethlehem. But in the fourth Gospel, written as almost every scholar believes, about A.D. 150, a claim is repeatedly made by Jesus, of having lived for an untold period, in the spirit world in company with the Father.

We will not enter here upon the grossness of thought, which is mingled with the better ideas of the writer of John's Gospel—a notion that involves the necessity for a celestial spouse of God; for if the son existed—"begotten by the father before all worlds," it could only be by some union—for the word "son" implies the necessity of a father and a mother—more especially when it is declared, that he was "begotten." Our chief business, however, is not with this point, but with the preëxistence of Jesus.

The assertions by which the claim to a preëxistence is recognized, may be found in the well known words in the beginning of John, also in the 10th verse—"The world was made by him." In these parts, the evangelist declares that Jesus was coeval with his father, which no son can be. In chap. iii. 13, we find, "no man hath ascended up to heaven, but he that came down from heaven, even the Son of man which is in heaven,"—a strange text indeed, which totally ignores the ascension of Enoch and Elijah—or which demonstrates that they lived in heaven before they were born on earth, and which still further makes Jesus say, that he was in heaven at the time when he was talking to Nicodemus! In chap, vi. 62, there is a similar idea, "and if ye shall see the Son of man ascend up where he was before." In chap. viii. 14 to 23, 38, and 56, a similar idea is propounded; and in v. 58, Jesus is made to assert positively, "before Abraham was, I am." In chap, xvi. 28, again, we read, "I came forth from the Father," and in chap. xvii. 5, we see, "and now, O Father, glorify thou me with thine own self with the glory which I had with thee before the world was."

We do not believe that the son of Mary made these assertions himself, nor did the son of Maya. But Sakya Muni had not long been dead, before his disciples promulgated the doctrine that he was, in reality, a part of the Supreme, who had existed for everlasting, and had been manifested in the flesh to become a teacher; what his followers did for Buddha, it was natural that others should do for Christ. It may be that the latter were stimulated to do so by noticing the former, but it is quite as probable that the idea of glorification came spontaneously to both sets of men. Whichever view of the case we may take, one thing is certain, viz., that both Buddhists and Christians, have, from the death of their respective masters, done everything in their power, century by century, to augment the claims of each, until indeed, individuals are found, who regard Sakya Muni as the Supreme, and Jesus the All in All. The learned historian may trace in the East, the rise of Buddha's influence in some spots, and its decadence in others; and, when he looks nearer home, he may see the gradual fall of Jesus, and the rise of Mary amongst the Papists, whilst amongst the Protestants, the son has been raised even above the Father. Not many months have passed, since a clever preacher and thoughtful man, told me that he was determined to see nothing in the world but Christ—for whatever was done, he felt a certain confidence that it was done by him, and for his glory.

We see then, that both Buddhism and Christianity have been founded on the assertion that mankind suffers pain, misery, and death, in consequence of antecedent criminality before "The Great Master"—that men will be punished after death for certain sins committed in this life; and that they can attain to salvation by adopting the precepts and practice laid down by Buddha and by Christ. Those who preach these doctrines are sure of the facts that misery exists, and that man desires to escape it. According, then, to the painting of the one, and the earnest promise of the other, all teachers of the two sects have a strong hold upon the imagination of their followers. I assert, without fear of contradiction from any thoughtful man, that the main inducements held out by our divines to persuade their hearers to embrace Christianity, are an awful painting of the horrors of hell, and an assurance not only of escaping it, but of gaining a place quite different to the Devil's kingdom, provided only that the plan adopted by the theologian is followed to the letter. Neither Buddhists nor Christians seem ever to have studied the laws of nature, or the works of the Supreme, with any largeness of mind or understanding. Had they done so, they would alter their views respecting sin entirely, and they would attribute the miseries of life to their proper cause.

It will be interesting to the reader, if we now endeavour to remove from the two religious systems, of which we treat, all those parts, which are to my mind, clearly imaginary; and examine what is left behind. There is nothing beyond a skeleton of morality, pure and simple. But even the morality is not based upon common sense. It is tainted by what every thinker must regard as absurdities. For example, when Siddartha instructed his disciples to become ascetics, and live upon alms, he did recognize the fact, that, if all men adopted his law, they must starve; for not one would have anything to give. In like manner, when Jesus of Nazareth sent off his disciples without any provision for their subsistence; and when he preached, "take no thought for the morrow," he did not appear to take in the idea, that if all the world became converted to his doctrine, all would suffer, and die of hunger. It is, therefore, quite as necessary for a modern philosopher, to correct some of the better parts of the doctrines of the sons of Maya Devi, and Mary, as it is to emendate their worst features. If such an one were to pretend—or to believe, that he was "inspired" to rectify the dispensation of Siddartha and Jesus, as the latter thought himself commissioned to improve upon, or to fulfil the law of Moses—it is probable that he would be regarded as a prophet; but if he should only try to coax men to think, rather than drive them to believe, he would be unheeded by the majority. Nor after all, does it much signify. Sheep are tolerably comfortable whoever the shepherd may be, and if there should be a fight between rivals for the ownership of a flock, the quadrupeds do not care, so long as they are not trained to fight, to fast, or to live on an animal diet.

When any one speaks of the morality, pure and simple, inculcated by Sakya Muni and Jesus, it is a fair question to ask whether asceticism is included therein. In other words, is there anything of the nature of absolute goodness in the attempt to make oneself miserable? Or, to vary the question still further—granting, for the sake of argument, that it is intrinsically right in the sight of God to abstain from such of our propensities as induce us to marry, to eat, drink, and sleep heartily, to fight a duel with a rival, to steal, to lie, to covet, and the like,—granting, too, that every such abstinence is entered as "an asset" on the creditor side of the books of Heaven—is it an equally available item to abstain from brotherly love and comfort generally? The logician sees clearly that there is no distinction in kind between controlling one set of animal passions and another, and is forced to allow that if it be a commendable thing to avoid indulging in one carnal appetite, it is still more commendable to endeavour to counteract them all Consequently, by granting the premisses, we find ourselves landed in a difficulty. If universal asceticism were to prevail, it is clear that man would be opposing himself to the manifest designs of the Creator, as shown in the world at large; and we cannot conceive, that direct disobedience to instincts, implanted in us by our Maker, can be anything but an item on the debtor side in the books, which Jewish writers have said that He keeps. Thus we are driven to investigate the very assertions which in the commencement of our inquiry we took for granted, and to ask ourselves, is there really any intrinsic value in morality in the sight of God? Can a most virtuous life command for the individual who has practised it an eternity of bliss? Jesus answers this tolerably distinctly in the words reported in Luke xvii. 10, "When ye shall have done all those things which are commanded you, say, We are unprofitable servants: we have done that which it was our duty to do." But we doubt whether this dictum enunciates sufficiently clearly the abstract value of morality. To ascertain this we must endeavour to read the book of nature on other pages than those which treat of man.

There can be no doubt in the mind of a thoughtful observer that man and the lower animals have much in common—that; all have been framed with a purpose, and are ruled by natural laws. Some creatures excel in cunning, some in reason, some in activity, some in sloth—all have certain proclivities. In some, instinct leads them to eat grass, boughs, leaves, and fruits; in others, it teaches them to seek insects or other creatures for their food. All have, more or less, periodically a propensity to propagate;—which is attended in some by a pairing off of male and female, who consort for the purpose of having offspring and assisting each other in rearing them. In others, either where there is naturally an equality of the sexes or a preponderance of males, the latter instinctively fight with each other for a single mate, or for a number of females. Again, in the case of animals actuated by hunger, or by other motives, there are frequent battles, and the conquered is not only killed, but eaten. Or where two or more sets of animals are living, the one on land, the other in the air, we may find that one will rob the other. Nothing, for example, is much more common than for rats and crows to steal eggs, or for tigers to commit murder. Nature, then, being such as we find it, we cannot assert—reasonably—that a young stag when he covets a neighbour's wife and fights her present consort, for property in her, commits a crime against the Almighty,—nor can we say that a fox which steals a goose will be sent to hell. On the other hand, we should never think of commending a hungry lion for abstaining from killing a harmless lamb, nor of declaring that he has done a good action in the sight of heaven. In like manner, a writer in proverbs tells us that "men do not despise a thief if he steal to satisfy his soul when he is hungry,"—and the general consent of mankind refuses to see the crime of murder in the slaughter of one, out of a miserable boat's crew, who is killed and eaten that the survivors may escape death from hunger. Society, too, is somewhat lenient when two men fight for the love of such a woman as Helen. But we readily recognise the fact that a community, or even a family, would be weakened and disorganized if theft was encouraged, and every pretty female was the cause of close fighting between man and man. Hence we see that, in reality, that which is called "the moral law," is a code which is intended to influence social life in this world, and not the position of human beings in the next.

However much we might desire to think the contrary, we are driven to the belief that the moral precepts inculcated on the Jews, the Buddhists, and the Christians, had a human, and, we may add, a political origin. Taking the Bible even as being what many believe it to be—the inspired word of God—we must nevertheless allow that such a code as that book contains in Exodus and elsewhere, existed in Egypt long before the departure of the Jews from that country. Had not murder been prohibited on the Nile bank, Moses would not have run away to escape the penalty for homicide. Because the Mizraim punished killing, were they taught of God?

The natural answer to this query when it is addressed to a bibliolater is that the Egyptians were taught by God to punish murder with death through the intervention of their forefather, Ham, who heard the command given by God to Noah, "Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed," Gen. ix. 6. But if the Egyptians thus knew the law, so the descendants of Shem must have learned it also; and if so, what need was there to repeat it amongst the thunders of Sinai. It is plain from the romantic legend of Joseph and Potiphar's wife: first, that the Hebrew slave feared to commit adultery, as it was a great wickedness and a sin against God, Gen. xxxix. 9; and, secondly, that the Egyptian considered it a crime in anyone to violate the wife of another. But neither Joseph nor Potiphar could by any possibility have heard of the laws enunciated on Sinai. So, if we could inquire farther, we should most assuredly learn that the Mizraim venerated their parents, punished theft, and took means to prevent and to punish perjury. If, then, the Egyptians had, long before they ever heard of a Jew, the same commandments amongst them which were subsequently enunciated in the wilderness, we can only come to the conclusion that the Hebrew writer who told the story of Sinai, gave the god whom he described, a great deal of unnecessary work. Can we for a moment suppose that the Jews when in Egypt had their wives in common?—and if each man had his mate, and each woman her husband, it is almost self-evident that adultery would not be tolerated amongst them. As there were therefore distinct moral laws long before the Exodus, the decalogue was entirely superfluous.

The morality inculcated by teachers is nothing more than instructions for mankind how to attain the greatest harmony amongst their fellows. It is very natural for a thoughtless man to assert that one who wilfully disturbs the general comfort of the human family during his life-time, shall be tormented eternally after his death; and, on the other hand, to proclaim that he who does everything in his power to increase the happiness of his fellow-men shall be rewarded in a heaven above, with everlasting music, or other delights; yet we may fairly doubt the averments, for both are founded entirely upon human ideas of right and wrong, justice and injustice. The prevalent idea is, that everything which to some man seems to be wrong on earth, will be righted in another sphere—Even Jesus appears to have adopted this view, for he talks (Luke xvi) of a Dives and Lazarus—the one, a rich man who fared sumptuously every day, and the other a beggar, full of sores, who longed for the crumbs from wealth's table. After the deaths of these two people, we are told that the rich man went to Hell, and the poor one to Heaven, not—apparently—because one was bad and the other good; but simply because misery in the present is sure to be changed into luxury for the future, and vice versa. We see this doctrine distinctly enunciated by the imaginary Abraham, in whose bosom Lazarus lay, for he remarks (Luke xvi. 25), "Son, remember that thou in thy lifetime receivedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things; but now he is comforted and thou art tormented." We nowhere find that his position was a reward to the beggar for virtue or morality. There is also a current doctrine that he whom we call a vile man—one who indulges his brutal desires, shall in another world become more brutalized—meeting with, and being beaten by, powers whose mischievous propensities are superior to his own; whilst, on the other hand, he whom we call a saint, one who endeavours to subdue the affections of the flesh in this world, shall be able to indulge in any desire that he may have, in the next, unlimitedly. In short, each individual makes a Heaven for himself, and a Hell for his neighbours. I have heard, in days gone by, a Southern States lady say she would not go to heaven, willingly, if she knew that she should meet negroes there on terms of equality.

In rejoinder to these considerations, the question is put, "Could the world be habitable by men, without the existence amongst them of a belief in a future state, in which rewards and punishments shall be meted out for supposed misdeeds committed in the present?" It is well for us to look the matter in the face boldly, and ask ourselves whether fierce tigers, angry bulls, combative stags, kindred devouring rats, offspring eating alligators, infanticidal birds and pigs have succeeded in extirpating their race? There are herds, without number, of graminivorous animals in Africa, and thousands of carnivorous creatures who could not exist without murdering some of the former; yet the slaughter committed by scores of lions does not annihilate antelopes. In like manner there are many folks who have lived in sundry islands of the Pacific without an idea, so far as we can learn, of an eternity, who sometimes spend their leisure time in fighting with and eating each other, and occasionally unite to kill a shark: each individual lives and dies like any other animal, but the race remains. Even the systematic "hellishness" of persecution indulged in by the followers of Jesus in the middle ages did not extirpate the Jews; and if organized murders, such as were, in days gone by, sanctioned by individuals wielding the sceptre of powerful governments, could not cut off from existence a comparatively feeble race, surely we may conclude that a nation can continue populous even if any individual, in a fit of passion, should rise against his fellow and smite him to the dust. But we need not go to New Zealand, China, and Japan to prove that men can live in a community without an idea of eternity, for we have only to refer to the Jews, the so-called people of God. To them no knowledge of eternal life was given, consequently we infer that Jehovah knew that they would get along in the world very well without it. What Elohim thought was unnecessary, it is not for man to propound as important.

When the modern Christian philosopher—and there really are a few who deserve the term—finds that the morality of Jesus did not materially differ from that of Sakya Muni, he endeavours to show that the doctrine of "faith in the son of God" is of more value than simple propriety, and that even the most virtuous life will not enable a man to attain to paradise unless he holds the Catholic faith. When the "Catholic faith," as it is termed, is placed in such a position, we are bound to examine its pretensions, and inquire in what way doctrines or dogmas are better than morality, and whether they are in any way superior to what the orthodox call "irreligion." To my mind the best method of solving the question is an appeal to history. If, as it is contended by the orthodox, the teaching of Christianity is far above that of any other religion, then it must follow that all those who believe in it, or even profess it, must be paragons amongst men as citizens and rulers. To what extent many theologians believe in this axiom may be judged by the frequency with which we hear, from the pulpit, an old anecdote to the effect, that the expression, "see how these Christians love one another," was, in olden time, nearly equal to the most powerful sermon in favour of the religion of Jesus. Without pointing a sneer, by requesting my readers to substitute the word Buddhists for Christians, let me lay the very heavy charge against the leaders of the faith, that the words in question are the heaviest condemnation possible against the supposed value of the doctrines of the son of Mary, as formerly and at present expounded. "See how these Christians love!" Aye, see how they love—read their own histories of the past, and their newspapers in the present; attend their meetings; listen to their speeches; and even follow them into private life. In every position "see how these Christians love one another" is the damning sentence which tells of the real value of the doctrine attributed to the son of Mary. Whilst I write (Jan. 7, 1870), a council, called OEcumenical, consisting of Roman Catholic Christian bishops, summoned to the capital of ancient Italy from all parts of the world, is sitting, and one of the subjects of its deliberation is, whether a certain individual, elected by men to assume the direction of a community of men holding a particular faith in common, shall be regarded, by those who join such branch of the church, as absolutely infallible in every statement of opinion which he makes as a high priest. Men positively have met to clothe, and now have invested, a man with an attribute of God, and millions of Christians will, by those men, be compelled to consider themselves bound by the decision! "See how these Christians love!" they are persecuted by the world at first, then they persecute their oppressors, and massacre each other; educated by Jesus, they gradually encourage ignorance until they reach a superstition as crass as the darkness of a dense fog in a moonless night. They oppose the advancement of knowledge and science, then, by degrees, endeavour to exalt each other, until, by common consent, they deify the chieftain of the order. There is not a known crime of which the leaders of the Christian church, as it is called, have not been guilty, both as men and ecclesiastical rulers. "See how these Christians love!" Yet these very men endeavour to deride, and affect to despise, those whom they call the godless. The latter, taking their stand upon morality and common sense, aver that all affairs between man and his maker ought to be referred to the arbitrement of Heaven. The Christian hierarchs, on the contrary, declare that they are the earthly agents of heaven, and that they, and the secular arm—a very mundane court—can act just as well, perhaps better, than the Supreme Judge. We will not say whether it was a pleasant pastime for the Spanish, and other Inquisitors, to torture individuals who were thought to be inimical to the true faith, inasmuch as we do not know their inmost mind; but we asseverate that all Europe, except those who had the power of persecution, and used it, rejoiced greatly when the enthusiastic armies, of what was designated atheistic France, annihilated the so-called Holy Inquisition.

I speak with sober earnestness when I say, that after forty years' experience amongst those who profess Christianity, and those who proclaim, more or less quietly, their disagreement with it, I have noticed more sterling virtue and morality amongst the last than the first. Though I thus express myself, I must also acknowledge my belief in the dictum, "that many men are better than their creeds would make them," and, consequently, that all men are not to be taken as characteristic of their system of belief. I know, personally, many pious, sterling, good Christian people, whom I honour, admire, and, perhaps, would be glad to emulate or to equal; but they deserve the eulogy thus passed on them in consequence of their good sense having ignored the doctrine of faith to a great degree, and having cultivated the practice of good works. They have picked out the best bits of the Bible, and rejected the worst. In my judgment the most praiseworthy Christians whom I know are modified Buddhists, though, probably, not one of them ever heard of Siddartha. I would gladly trace their character, but I forbear, as I think they would be horrified at the thought of my comparing them with those whom they have been taught to regard as followers of a false prophet, or something worse. Let it suffice to say that I honour consistent reasonable Christians everywhere, and that whatever remarks I make which seem to be opposed to this, are directed against those whose doctrines, morality, and conduct, ostensibly built upon the Bible, are irrational and bad.

Since the preceding remarks were written, there have appeared three very remarkable works upon Buddhism in addition to those which I have already noticed—and they have the advantage for general readers, of being clothed in an English dress. The first which I will notice, is Travels of Fah-Hian and Sung-Yun: Buddhist Pilgrims from China to India (408 A.D., and 518 a.d.; London, Trübner, 1869, small 8vo. pp. 208.) This work is remarkable as illustrating the fact, that there has been the idea, even in China, of sending men, or of devout persons spontaneously going, to distant places, to endeavour to seek for more perfect religious knowledge, than they believe themselves and their teachers to possess where they are. With such an example before us, we can give more easy credence to the stories told of Pythagoras, of Solon, and Herodotus; how they visited distant countries to learn the way of God and man more perfectly. Nor must we pass by the proof, which the journey of the Chinese travellers affords, that, what may be called missionary zeal is not an apanage of Christianity alone. An account of their travels will be found in the next chapter. The second publication to which we refer, is Buddhaghosa's Parables, translated from the Burmese, by Capt. T. Rogers; with an introduction containing Buddha's Dhammapada, or Path of Virtue, translated from the Pâli, by Max Müller; London, Trubner & Co., 1870, 8vo. pp. 374. This work is of such importance to all students of the Science of Religion, that we shall notice it in a separate essay. The third contribution, is The Modern Buddhist, being the views of a Siamese Minister of State, on his own and other religions, translated, with remarks, by Henry Alabaster, interpreter of H. B. M., consulate-general in Siam; London, Triibner & Co., 1870, small 8vo. pp. 91. This has now arrived at a second edition, and is called The Wheel of the Law.

This last book is, perhaps, the most interesting of the three, inasmuch as it enables us to compare the modern development of the religion of Buddha, and that of Christ. It enables us, moreover, to see ourselves and modern Christian doctrines as others see them, and to discover the essential points at issue, between the followers of the son of Maya Devi, and of Mary.

The first point to which we would call attention, is the statement that the Siamese are nowhere excelled in the sincerity of their belief, and the liberality with which they support their religion. "In Bangkok alone, there are more than a hundred monasteries, and ten thousand monks and novices. More than this, every male Siamese, sometime during his life, and generally in the prime of it, takes orders as a monk, and retires for some months or years, to practise abstinence and meditation in a monastery." Against this, or side by side with it, what can Great Britain, or any other Christian country show? We have, it is true, plenty of monasteries in Christendom, and in the majority of western kingdoms, there are colleges and universities for the education of youth, and there is, in some such institutions, a pretence of meditation and of abstinence. Yet the finger of scandal points, and has pointed, for many hundred years, to the disreputable conduct pursued in almost the whole of such Christian institutions; whereas, not even its enemies can find evidence to convict Buddhist ascetics of indulging in sensual gratifications of any kind whatever.

We learn, from Mr Alabaster's preface, that the late king of Siam, though "eminent amongst monks for his knowledge of the Buddhist scriptures, boldly preached against the canonicity of those of them, whose relations were opposed to his reason, and his knowledge of modern science." "His powers as a linguist were considerable, and enabled him to use an English library with facility." They are his views—which royal etiquette prevented him from writing, that inspired his prime minister. What have we here? Surely it is an example that British rulers, and especially divines, should follow. Yet with all our boasted skill, science, and powers of thought, our theologians prefer to preach, and to uphold, doctrines which they know to be repugnant, both to reason and to science, rather than abandon that which was propounded when reason and knowledge were almost in their infancy. Certainly, in this respect, the believers in Sakya Muni show themselves more sensible than those in Jesus.

Again, let us quote the following paragraph—pointing out the analogy we wish to draw, by using a literary contrivance—and calling attention to the fact, that no Roman Catholic authority in Christian Europe, has yet dared to say, what a Buddhist ruler does.

"Our {Siamese \ Papal} literature is not only scanty, but nonsensical, full of stories of {genii \ saints} stealing {women \ relics} and {men \ saints} fighting with {genii \ devils} and {extraordinary persons\ Elijah and Philip} who could fly through the air, and bring dead people to life. And, even those works, which profess to teach anything, generally teach it wrong; so that there is not the least profit, though one studies them from morning to night" (p. 7).

The following observation is equally powerful—Chaya. Phya. Praklang—the name of the Siamese author, might, "as a Buddhist, believe in the existence of a God, sublimed above all human qualities and attributes—a perfect God, above love, and hatred, and jealousy, calmly resting in a quiet happiness that nothing could disturb; and of such a God he would speak no disparagement, not from a desire to please Him, or fear to offend Him, but from natural veneration. But he cannot understand a God with the attributes and qualities of men, a God who loves and hates, and shows anger, a Deity, who, whether described to him by Christian Missionaries, or by Mahometans, Brahmins, or Jews, falls below his standard of even an ordinary good man" (p. 25).

After the passages which we have quoted, the translator gives many pages of accounts of conversation between missionaries and the Siamese minister, which well repay a perusal. They are too long for quotation entire, but there are three paragraphs that deserve commemoration, as they show us the reasoning powers of the Buddhist in favourable contrast to the bigotry of his would-be instructor. "I said, 'then you consider that even a stone in the bladder is created by God?' He replied, 'Yes, everything, God creates everything.' 'Then,' answered I, if that is so, God creates in man that which will cause his death, and you medical missionaries remove it, and restore his health! Are you not opposing God by so doing? Are you not offending Him in curing those whom He would kill?' When I had said this the missionary became angry, and saying 'I was hard to teach,' left me" (p. 29). Again, when he and Dr Gutzlaff were discussing the story of the creation and "the fall," as taught in the Christian and Jewish Bible, and the Buddhist has clearly the best of the argument, the missionary told him, that if any spoke as the minister had been doing in European countries, he would be put in prison—and Chaya Phya adds, "I invite particular attention to this statement" (p. 34). Thus, not only in other parts of his work, but here also, he points out how that which Christian emissaries say is "a religion of peace on earth and good will to men" is, in reality, one of intolerance and persecution, even on the showing of its own ministers. In the third example to which I refer, Gutzlaff is again talking with Chaya upon the curse of man, and the Siamese speaks thus—"Besides, the Bible says, by belief in Christ, man shall escape the consequences of Eve's sin; yet I cannot see that men do so escape in any degree, but suffer just as others do." The missionary answered, "It is waste of time to converse with evil men, who will not be taught, and so he left me" (p. 35). When men like Gutzlaff, who is really eminent in his way, can be so readily silenced and put to flight by a native of Siam, whose mind is not familiar with the science and logical training of European thinkers, it is by no means surprising that cultivated Englishmen should refuse to believe in the childish stories and foolish doctrines that are promulgated by Christians at home, as being an inspired and infallible revelation from the Almighty. Alas, for our country and her people! they have much to unlearn as well as to learn before they can lay a fair claim to the position which they assume to hold.

We may next quote the following, as being useful to missionary societies here. After having described the religion of Papists, Protestants, and Mormons, Chaya says, "All these three sects worship the same God and Christ, why, then, should they blame each other, and charge each other with believing wrongfully, and say to each other, 'You are wrong, and will go to Hell; we are right, and shall go to Heaven?' You make us think that it is one religion which Christians hold, yet how can we join it when each party threatens us with Hell if we agree with another sect, and there is none to decide between them? I beg comparison of this with the teaching of the Lord Buddha, that whoever endeavours to keep the commandments, and is charitable, and walks virtuously, must attain to Heaven" (p. 43). The commandments referred to are—

1st. Thou shalt not destroy nor cause the destruction of any living thing.

2d. Thou shalt not, either by fraud or violence, obtain or keep that which belongs to another.

3d. Thou shall not lie carnally with any but proper objects for thy lust.

4th. Thou shalt not attempt, either by word or action, to lead others to believe that which is not true.

5th. Thou shalt not become intoxicated.

We much fear, that if the commandments which nominal Christians observe are contrasted with those kept by the Buddhists, that the former must be regarded as much lower in the scale of religious civilization than the latter.

The Siamese author next discusses the question, "how shall a man select that religion which he can trust to for his future happiness?" His answer is, "He must reflect, and apply his mind to ascertain which comes nearest to truth." Then follow a few very true remarks about the difficulty of shaking off any faith once adopted—about the causes which determine men to change their belief, and, in illustration of the difficulties, the author quotes a sermon by Buddha to those who were in doubt, and desired to select a right religion. "And the Lord Buddha answered, You are right to doubt, for it was a doubtful matter. I say unto all of you, do not believe in what ye have heard, that is, when you have heard anyone say this is especially good or extremely bad; do not reason with yourselves, that if it had not been true it would not have been asserted, and so believe in its truth. Neither have faith in traditions, because they have been handed down for many generations, and in many places.

"Do not believe in anything because it is rumoured and spoken of by many; do not think that is a proof of its truth.

"Do not believe merely because the written statement of some old sage is produced; do not be sure that the writing has ever been revised by the said sage, or can be relied on. Do not believe in what you have fancied, thinking that, because an idea is extraordinary, it must have been implanted by a Deva, or some wonderful being.

"Do not believe in guesses, that is, assuming something at haphazard, as a starting point, and then drawing conclusions from it—reckoning your two and your three and your four before you have fixed your number one.

"Do not believe because you think there is an analogy, that is, a suitability in things and occurrences—such as believing that there must be walls of the world because you see water in a basin, or that Mount Meru must exist because you have seen the reflection of trees, or that there must be a creating god because houses and towers have builders.

"Do not believe in the truth of that to which you have become attached by habit, as every nation believes in the superiority of its own dress, and ornaments, and language.

"Do not believe because your informant appears to be a credible person, as, for instance, when you see anyone having a very sharp appearance, conclude that he must be clever and trustworthy: or, when you see anyone who has powers and abilities beyond what men generally possess, believe in what he tells; or think that a great nobleman is to be believed, as he would not be raised by the king to high station unless he were a good man.

"Do not believe merely on the authority of your teachers and masters, or believe and practise merely because they believe and practise.

"I tell you all, you must of yourselves know, that 'this is evil, this is punishable, this is censured by wise men, belief in this will bring no advantage to anyone, but will cause sorrow;' and when you know this, then eschew it" (pp. 45-47). Then follows a long account of the examples which Buddha gave to his disciples, examining them by questions, whose answer is obvious; but these, though wonderfully to the point, are too long for quotation, and we must refer our readers to the book itself. Nor do we act thus, reluctantly, for we believe that every honest inquirer will thank us for the introduction. We should rejoice if some of our divines became acquainted with it. They might draw as many valuable texts from the discourses attributed to Buddha, herein described, as they do now from Jesus' sermon on the mount. We may add, in passing, that, in the conversation of Sakya Muni, he says, "it is better to believe in a future life, in which happiness or misery can be felt, for if the heart believes therein, it will abandon sin and act virtuously; and even if there is no resurrection, such a life will bring a good name and the regard of men. But those who believe in extinction at death, will not fail to commit any sin that they may choose, because of their disbelief in a future; and if there should happen to be a future after all, they will be at a disadvantage—they will be like travellers without provisions" (p. 54).

The following exposition of modern Buddhist belief well deserves attention.

"Buddhists believe that every act, word, or thought, has its consequence, which will appear sooner or later in the present, or in some future state. Evil acts will produce evil consequences, i.e., may cause a man misfortune in this world, or an evil birth in hell, or as an animal in some future existence. Good acts, etc., will produce good consequences; prosperity in this world, or birth in heaven, or in a high position in the world in some future state" (p. 57).

We will only add, that if the value of Buddhism, like Christianity, is to be known by its fruits, it is clear, that the former, as practised generally in Siam, is decidedly superior to the latter as practised in Great Britain, America, and Christendom, generally.

## CHAPTER V.

         Priority of Buddhism to Christianity. Strange assumptions.
         When was India first known to Christians? Thomas the
         Apostle, When Asceticism was introduced into Christianity.
         Results of inquiry into the introduction of Christianity
         into India. Tarshish and Ceylon. Peacocks known as the
         Persian birds to the Greeks, temp. Aristophanes. Indian
         elephants in army of Darius. Roman traffic with India, b.c.
         30. Buddhist missionaries. The gift of tongues. Rise of
         Asceticism in Western Asia. Essenes again. Collection of
         Buddhist writings, 450 b.c. Degeneracy of original Faith.
         Missionaries from China to Hindostan in search of Buddhist
         works and knowledge. Travels of Fah Hian, their experience
         and remarks. Quotations from their writings. Footprints of
         Buddha and Peter. Immaculate conception of Sakya. Old
         Simeon—a repetition. Wise men from the East. St. Ursula.
         Three Buddhist councils to compile scriptures. Buddhism
         lapsed into image-worship and processions. Progress of the
         pilgrims. Return by sea. Deductions. Developments of
         Christianity and Asceticism. Observations about travelling.
         Conclusions.

With the usual pertinacity of Englishmen, there are many devout individuals who, on finding that Buddhism and Christianity very closely resemble each other, asseverate, with all the vehemence of an assumed orthodoxy, that the first has proceeded from the second. Nor can the absurdity of attempting to prove that the future must precede the past deter them from declaring that Buddhism was promulgated originally by Christian missionaries from Judea, and then became deteriorated by Brahminical and other fancies! It is really difficult, sometimes, to discover what are the real tenets of the obstinate orthodox to whom we refer; but, so far as we can learn from the character of their opposition, it would appear that they do not deny the existence of such a man as Sakya Muni, to whom his followers gave the name of Buddha. Just in the same way, we may add, as his followers gave the name of Jesus Christ to Ben Panther. Whilst allowing that Siddartha founded a new religion, the orthodox assert that all its bad parts are human, whilst all its good parts consist of doctrines tacked on to the original, after Christianity had been introduced into India, by one or more of Jesus' apostles or disciples.

If, for the sake of argument, we accord to such cavillers the position of reasonable beings, and ask them to give us some proof of the assertion, that early Christian people went to Hindostan and preached the gospel there; or even to point out, in history, valid proofs that India was known to a single apostle, we find that they have nothing to say beyond the vaguest gossip.

What the testimony is we may find by turning to the article Thomas, in Kitto's Cyclopoedia of Biblical Literature, which was written by a learned professor of Gottingen. Therein we see, and the statement is amply vouched by quotation from authorities, that the Apostle in question is said to have preached the gospel in Parthia and in Persia, and to have been buried in Edessa; and that, according to a later tradition, Thomas went to India, and suffered martyrdom there. Then follows a statement that this account has been assailed, &c. Similar traditions are mentioned by Dean Stanley in Smith's "Dictionary of the Bible" with the addition that it is now believed that the Thomas of Malabar Christian fame was a Nestorian missionary.

Eusebius writes, book v., ch. 10, speaking of Pantaenus, about a.d. 190—"He is said to have displayed such ardour... that he was constituted a herald of the gospel of Christ to the nations of the East, and advanced even as far as India; and the report is, that he there found his own arrival anticipated by some who were acquainted with the gospel of Matthew, to whom Bartholomew, one of the Apostles, had preached, and had left them the gospel of Matthew in the Hebrew, which was also preserved unto this time. Pantænus became finally the head of the Alexandrian school." Such a piece of gossip no historian can trust for a moment.

Socrates, in his Ecclesiastical History, about a.d. 420, writes, "We must now mention by what means the profession of Christianity was extended in Constantine's reign, for it was in his time that the nations, both of the Indians in the interior, and the Iberians, first embraced the Christian faith. But it may be needful briefly to explain why the expression in the interior is appended. When the apostles went forth by lot amongst the nations, Thomas received the apostleship of the Parthians. Matthew was allotted Ethiopia, and Bartholomew the part of India contiguous to that country; but the interior of India, which was inhabited by many barbarous nations, using different languages, was not enlightened by Christian doctrine before the time of Constantine," about 320 A.D. Then follows a story of a Tynan philosopher, who, with two youths, took ship, and arrived somewhere in India, just after the violation of a treaty between that country and the Romans. Everyone in the ship was killed but the two lads, who, being young, were sent as a present to the Indian king. One became a cupbearer, the other the royal recorder. The king died, freeing the youths, and the queen, left with a young son, made the strangers his tutors, or regents. One, who was the highest, then began to inquire whether, amongst the Roman merchants trafficking with that country, there were any Christians to be found. Having discovered some, he induced them to select a place for worship, and he subsequently built a church, into which he admitted some Indians, after previous instruction. The other youth comes back to Tyre, and then the regent comes to Alexandria, talks to Athanasius, and begs him to send a bishop and clergy to the place he has left, to which no name is given. To the latter youth Frumentius, ordination is given, and he returns to India to preach, to perform miracles, and build oratories, [—Greek—]. The historian, adds Rufinus, assures us that he heard these facts from the former king's cupbearer, Edesius, who was afterwards inducted into the sacred office at Tyre.

We may next quote the Epitome of the Ecclesiastical History of Philostorgius (who wrote about A.D. 425), compiled by Photius, Patriarch of Constantinople. Therein we may observe how completely the first contradicts Socrates as before quoted, and may also infer the reason why. In book ii., ch. 6, the words run, "The impious Philostorgius relates, that the Christians in Central India, who were converted to the faith of Christ by the preaching of St. Bartholomew, believe that the son is not of the same substance with the father." He adds that "Theophilus, the Indian who had embraced this opinion, came to them and delivered it to them as a doctrine; and also that these Indians are now called Homeritæ, instead of their old name, Sabæans, which they received from the city of Saba, the chief city of the whole nation." This leads me to doubt very strongly whether the ecclesiastical writers in early days did not group, under the name of India, the southern parts of Arabia, Persia, and Beloochistan.

Sozomen, writing about the period of 325 A.D., says, book ii, ch. 24, "We have heard that about this period some of the most distant of the nations that we call Indian, to whom the preaching of Bartholomew was unknown, were converted to Christianity by Frumentius, a priest." Then follows an enlarged edition of the legend told by Socrates, and the words, "it is said that Frumentius discharged his priestly functions so admirably that he became an object of universal admiration." Theodoret, writing about 420 A.D., places the conversion of the Indians about 328 A.D., and gives substantially the same account as the preceding writers whom we have quoted.

We will not, however, content ourselves with this short notice, but will first inquire whether, if the accounts of the earlier reporters, Eusebius, Socrates, Clement, and Rufinus, who wrote about a.d. 320, 390, 190, and 370, are not to be trusted, we can believe the stories of Gregory Nazianzen, Ambrose, Jerome, Nicephorus, and Abdias, who wrote about a.d. 380, 380, 400, 815, and 910 respectively. If we believe one set of Christian "fathers," that Thomas the apostle died in Syria, we cannot credit a set of Christian "sons," who affirm that he was martyred in India. But—and the point is an important one—we can see reason why the children should invent an account of which the parents saw not the necessity. About the period of Gregory Nazianzen arose that asceticism which sent Simeon Stylites upon the top of his pillar in a.d. 394, and kept him there for the rest of his life, and that peopled the Thebaid with hermits of the most approved Buddhist order—celibates shunning luxury, and cultivating filthiness of the outer to cleanse the inner man. The way in which the original faith, preached by Jesus and modified by Paul, was distorted during the first few centuries in Egypt can only be rationally accounted for by a spread of Buddhist doctrines by Indian missionaries, or promulgated by Christian merchants, who had travelled to the Indies, and modified their original faith by what they saw and heard from the followers of the great Sramana; and it was natural for the Alexandrian Christians to adopt the modifications referred to, and to stamp the innovations with the assertion that they were apostolic reflections—rays of divine light falling from "the sun of righteousness" upon the mind of the blessed Saint Somebody, Thomas, for this purpose, being a name which answered as well as any other. There is positively no evidence whatever—except some apocryphal Jesuit stories about certain disciples of Jesus, found by Papal missionaries at Malabar—that any disciple of Mary's son ever proceeded to Hindostan to preach the gospel during the first centuries of our era. Those who know the history of the "Decretals," and of Prester John, can readily estimate the value of tales told by Jesuits in India, where there was not at the time anyone to test their veracity.

Being myself desirous of ascertaining what evidence really exists—or existed in the times of ancient authors, whose works have come down to us—of the knowledge of India by Europeans in days gone by, I instituted an inquiry, with the determination to be impartial. The results obtained were the following:—

The only reason for believing that Hindostan and Ceylon were known to the Phoenicians is a short passage in the Biblical History of Solomon, in which we are told that after a three years' absence, Hiram's Tyrian sailors returned from Tarshish, bringing what our translators call ivory, apes, and peacocks. The words in the Hebrew original are said by Tennant to be all but identical with those in use in Ceylon at the present date. For a full account of the probable identity of the Tarshish in the passage alluded to and Galle, see Emerson Tennant's History of Ceylon.

Yet, if we grant that the Tyrian shipmen traded to India, we are bound to confess that the knowledge which they acquired died with them; nor did their successors, the Greeks, know anything distinctly about Hindostan prior to the time of Alexander the Great. In the Biblical story of Esther we are told, i. 1, viii. 9, that a Persian king reigned from India to Ethiopia, the Hebrew word for the former being Hodoo, supposed to be a form of handoo, or hindoo; Pehlevi, hendo; Zend, heando; Sanscrit, Sindhu (Fürst, s.v.), equivalent to the Greek Indikee, or the country of the Indus. We find reason to believe that the India of Artaxerxes was a portion of Hindostan—first, because the Persian monarch had Indian soldiers in his army, and elephants, when he fought with Alexander; and secondly, because the peacock, a bird of Ceylon, was known to the Greeks, in the time of Aristophanes, as "the Persian bird." That the Persians traded with Northern India we infer, from the account which Appian gives us of the advance eastward of Alexander, after his victory at Arbela. But the whole story of the Grecian warrior's advance into the Punjaub and down the Indus, contains, in itself, tolerably clear proof that Hindostan was very little known to the Greeks. Of a subsequent invasion of India by Alexander's successor, Seleucus Nicator; of the mission of Megasthenes to Sandracottus, the grandfather of Asoka, the Buddhist Constantine; of the navigation of the Grecian ship down the Indus, and the subsequent traffic by land and sea between the Greeks and the Hindoos, we need not say more than that Augustus, b.c. 30, regulated the trade to Hindostan, via Alexandria, and that, at the time of Pliny the elder, about A.D. 60, voyages were being made to India every year, companies of archers being carried on board the vessels to protect them from pirates. We learn also that a twelvemonth did not elapse without a drain upon the Roman Empire of about one million and a-half sterling for India, in exchange for Hindoo wares (book vi., ch. 26).

At the period Pliny refers to, and for a long time previously, there can be no pretence that any of Jesus' apostles accompanied traders to Hindostan, for every one of them were employed nearer home. On the other hand, we may inquire into the possibility and the reasonableness of Buddhist missionaries travelling westward in the course of Alexandrian traffic, or of the caravans which, we have grounds for believing, came through Persia to the Roman Empire.

On turning to Oriental literature, we find that the often-mentioned King Asokâ adopted Buddhism as the religion of his empire about b.c. 250, and that, in his time, missionaries carried that faith successfully to the uttermost parts of Hindostan—to Burmah, to Ceylon, to Japan, to Thibet, and to China. The envoys carried with them, in some instances, written books, in others, their guide was oral tradition. Wherever they went they bore a biography of Sakya—or Buddha—accounts of miracles that he had performed, and a summary, more or less extended, of his preaching or doctrines. This dispersion of Hindoo envoys was about fifty years later than the mission of the Greek Megasthenes to the court of Asokâ's grandfather, and it is quite as probable that Buddhist preachers went to enlighten what they imagined to be the benighted, and what they knew to be the then defeated Grecians, as that they went over frightful mountains and stormy seas to Thibet, China, and Japan.

We may profitably pause for a moment here, to contemplate that which I at one time believed to be the most wonderful of all the miracles recorded in the New Testament, viz., "the gift of tongues." The references to this which we meet with in the epistles of the apostle Paul might lead to the supposition, that some who had this "gift" spoke mere gibberish—something which was not, either in intention or in reality, an utterance in a foreign language; but the story of the original imparting of power to speak in a previously unknown tongue involves the idea, that the disciples had, on the occasion referred to, a faculty given to them, by which they knew the languages used by various nationalities, without the trouble of learning them. Many divines have held that such ability was absolutely necessary to those who had to go forth to teach all nations the doctrines of the gospel I am quite aware that, however earnest I might be to propagate truth, I could not go, with advantage, to preach in Russia, because I know nothing of its language.

Doubt in the reality of the miracle recorded in Acts ii. was not born until I found that Buddhist missionaries went out into distant lands, where their own tongue was unknown, and yet made converts. When once I felt dubious as regards the veracity of the historian, I began to notice what the apostles generally did when they went to a new country or town. Their practice seems to have been to have visited synagogues of the Jews living on the spot—and able, if they chose, to be interpreters—or, where there were such establishments, "the schools" were visited, where the students and the masters understood Greek. In the time of Paul the language of the Hellenes was spoken by Romans of high position, much as French was spoken at the court of Frederic the Great of Prussia, and as German is at St. Petersburg. The Apostle seems to have spoken Greek readily, and when he could use that tongue or the Hebrew he was fluent. I have sought in vain for evidence that either Paul or any of the Apostles ever addressed a foreign mob, whose language was neither Greek nor Hebrew. A study of the nineteenth chapter of the Acts will show this—especially, we must notice the end of the tenth verse, where we are told "that all who dwelt in Asia heard the word of the Lord, both Jews and Greeks." When disturbance occurred in the theatre, Paul was not the orator put forward to appease the people—he probably could not speak their patois. Yet he tells us, 1 Cor. xiv. 18, that he spoke with tongues more than his fellows.*

         * There is much difference amongst ecclesiastical writers
         respecting what is called the "gift of tongues." The
         difficulty arises mainly from the desire to reconcile "the
         true" with "the absurd." Starting from the point that all
         "scripture" is written by "inspiration of God," the orthodox
         are obliged to receive the account narrated in Acts ii. as
         being literally correct.

In plain language, the story runs thus:—The Apostles, twelve in number, were sitting in a room. Whilst there, a noise was heard, and something like fiery tongues, more or less split, appeared, and one settled upon each of the company. These all, at once, began to speak in languages which were strange to all.

From the noise made, neighbours had their attention called, and from one mouth to another the tidings of the ranting ran, until it reached the ears of devout men, who, from every nation under heaven, were then assembled in Jerusalem. Whether these foreigners were Hebrews, or whether they, being strangers, had the gift of understanding the reports couched in Aramaic, we do not know. But it is narrated that, in the course of a few minutes—possibly an hour or two—the devout strangers came to listen to the Apostles, either speaking singly or at once.

As these foreigners noticed what was said, they recognized words in their own respective dialects, and then the Parthian said to the Mede—the Elamite to the Mesopotamian—the Phrygian to the Pamphyliaji, &c., "What does all this mean?" So to interchange a question involves that the interlocutors, like the Apostles, had suddenly received the gift of speaking, and understanding, other tongues than their own. When the listeners had convinced themselves about the marvel, each began to talk in his own language, and the Jews understood them to say, "What meaneth this?" the Hebrews, like the rest, having also the gift of knowing what was said in a strange language.

Some, however, had not this power of interpretation, and remarked, "the fellows are drunk!" For a moment we pause to inquire how many people there were in one room of one house. The Apostles were twelve; then there were, at least three, Parthians, Medes, &c., in all about forty-five more, and in addition, there were "the mockers." To all these Peter preached, and the wonders of the day were crowned by the conversion of three thousand people!

It seems, therefore, to be clear, from the account of this extraordinary miracle, that the Apostles then gathered together acquired the power of expressing their thoughts in languages which they had never learned, the judges of the feat being those whose dialects were spoken.

If we now proceed in biblical order to examine into the ideas connected with this strange faculty, we find, in Acts x. 44-46, that the circumcised Jews alone were satisfied, in the plenitude of their own ignorance, that Cornelius and his company could "speak with tongues." Again, in Acts xix. 6, we learn that certain Ephesians, after baptism, and imposition of hands, "spake with tongues "—no judge of the fact being quoted.

In 1 Cor. xii. 10, we discover that amongst the gifts of the Holy Spirit are "kinds of tongues," and the interpretation thereof which will, probably, remind the lover of Shakespeare of Act iv. Scenes 1 and 3, in "All's well that ends well," wherein there is a nonsensical jargon spoken by one person which another interprets to the satisfaction of the silly Parolles. In vv 28, 30, we see strong indications that the gift of tongues and interpretation may be compared to some things now heard of in spiritualistic or other conjuring séances.

This notion of "speaking with other tongues" reaches its climax, apparently, in 1 Cor. xiii. 1, wherein Paul indicates, but does not positively assert, that he can "speak with the tongues of men and angels," a boast which 2 Cor. xii. 4 leads us to take literally. But how any one on earth could test the reality of assertion it is difficult to conceive.

In 1 Cor. xiv. we see indications that "speaking with tongues" is little more or less than a sort of hysterical utterance of gibberish, which we may compare to the once celebrated chorus of

         Lilli-bullero-lero-lero-Lillibullero bullen a la.

One may now ask, "Why did people think that it was part of the Christian's privileges or powers to speak with tongues?" The only answer which I can discover is indicated in Acts ii. 18, wherein we find it given as the opinion of Peter, that a certain vaticination in Joel applied to the followers of Jesus. The philosopher may wonder at the ignorance—possibly at the knowledge—which confounded "prophesying" with the utterance of unintelligible rubbish; but the philologist should be led to investigate more strictly the real signification of words, and to inquire into the theories which are traceable to false interpretations.

Considerations such as these, which might be multiplied indefinitely, I have come to the belief that the Apostles of Jesus were no better, as regards their knowledge of foreign tongues, than their predecessors, the missionaries sent by Asokâ, or than the modern envoys sent out by a London Society.

What renders it probable that Buddhist ascetics found their way, probably amongst the camp followers of Antiochus the Great, and endeavoured to promulgate their doctrines in western Asia, is the fact that a sect sprang up amongst the Jews after the Grecian conquest of Palestine—called "The Essenes," to which we have before referred, amongst whose tenets Buddhism and Judaism were closely mingled The asceticism practised by this sect was, so far as we know, different to anything known at that time in Greece or Western Asia, and as it came into fashion at the same time in Palestine as Indian elephants and Hindoo Mahouts, there is some reason for the belief that it was brought by disciples of Siddartha. Without dwelling upon this again, we return to the well ascertained fact that Buddhism was promulgated most widely in Eastern and Northern Asia about 250 b.c., that a collection of religious books was made about two hundred years prior to that date, and that these were revised again during Asokâ's reign. But, however earnest were the teachers and the taught, the scriptures which they respected were so voluminous and the facilities for multiplying them were so small, that it happened, as it did amongst early Christians, that many a church had no written book of the law. As a consequence of this, one part or another of Sakya's doctrines became exalted unduly in one locality, whilst in another a portion was left out of sight. Stories, also, of miracles became varied, just as we find that they have been by the writers in the New Testament, the tendency being, as in the history of the blind man near Jericho, to exaggerate the wonder—for example, Mark and Luke, chap. x. and xviii, give an account of one man being cured of blindness, whilst Matthew, chap, xx., tells us that there were two. The narrators under such circumstances act as if they thought that it is as easy for a divinity to heal two or two thousand as to cure one, and we who tolerate the practice in a Christian evangelist must not ridicule it in Buddhist disciples.

When we contemplate the confusion that existed in the Christian church—the gradual deterioration of the faith taught by Jesus, and more especially by Paul, and the steady absorption of Pagan rites into the worship inaugurated by Peter and the other apostles, we can readily understand that in the course of six or seven hundred years there would be reason in countries distant from the home of Siddartha to deplore the gradual decadence of Buddhism, and a desire amongst the devout for tuition at the fountain-head. In modern times we have read of hierarchs coming from the uttermost parts of the earth to consult the Roman Pontiff upon points of discipline affecting the church, and we therefore see without surprise that, about A.D. 400, six hundred years after it had been planted, the congregation of Buddhists in China had within it men who determined to go to India, and bring back to their fellow-worshippers what they hoped would be a purer doctrine than that which they were accustomed to, and, if possible, to secure authentic books. Pilgrimage, with this object, cannot be regarded as being so absurd as that which has in modern days taken numbers of Christians to Lourdes, in the Pyrenees, or to St. Paray-le-Monial.

Ere we describe this Chinese search after truth, let us imagine a Christian from Central Russia determining to seek for enlightenment at Antioch about a.d. 640, and subsequently at the seven churches named in the Apocalypse—and afterwards writing his experience. We should be certain to find him bewailing the fall of Christianity and the rise of Islam. We may indeed affirm that if such a history was now to be discovered undated, we should regard it as having been written before or after the date named, according as "the churches" were described as being the seat of Mahommedism or of Christianity. Still further, if in every place which this traveller visited, he found a general belief in the stories told of Jesus and in the efficacy of his doctrine, we should consider this as proof that the people remained faithful to their early teaching. If, on the other hand, the wanderer found himself proscribed in any locality as a benighted heathen, without knowledge of the way of salvation—he would naturally think that a teacher had given to its inhabitants instruction different from that which was familiar to him. I do not exaggerate when I say that a genuine account of the travels in search of sound Christian doctrine through every part of Europe in the fifth century of our era, would be invaluable as an indication of the tenure of certain doctrines, not only in various localities, but as to the existence or the reverse of dogmas now regarded as of supreme importance.

Such a manuscript, which, however, relates to Buddhism and not to Christianity, exists in China, and it has lately been translated into English Travels of Fah-Hian and Sung-Yun, Buddhist Pilgrims from China to India, 400 a.d. and 518 a.d., translated from the Chinese by Samuel Bea. (Trübner & Co., London, 1869.) It tells us, in a singularly terse style, how a large portion of China was traversed by these pilgrims;—of the terrible journey over the mountains to the north of Hindustan; of a visit to the birth-place of Siddartha; to Benares, to Calcutta, and to Ceylon;—with an account of the return voyage in a good-sized ship back again to China. Everywhere, with one single exception, they find the law of Buddha prevailing. The place referred to as exceptional is Yopoti, Java, of which it is said: "In this country, heretics and Brahmins flourish; but the law of Buddha is not much known" (p. 168). In every other spot which they visit the Chinese wanderers speak applaudingly of the hold which the religion of Siddartha has upon the people, and the exemplary conduct of the faithful. From the beginning of the journey to the end, the enquirers appear always to have found the same form of faith which had been preached in their own country six hundred years before. The most careful investigator fails to find a shadow of those doctrines in which the teaching of Jesus differs from that of Sakya. There is not any allusion made to an impending dissolution of the world, to baptism, or to any sacrament; every remark relates to the essentials of Buddhism as known in each place where Europeans have been able to peruse the authorized Buddhist scriptures.

We may now quote some passages bearing on important points. About the sources of the Indus: "All the priests asked Fah-Hian what he knew as to the time when the law of Buddha began to spread eastward from their country." Hian replied, "On enquiry, men of those lands agreed in saying that, according to an ancient tradition, Shamans from India began to carry the sacred books of Buddha beyond the river, from the time when the image of Maitreya Bodhisatwa was set up." This image was set up three hundred years or so after the Nirvana of Buddha (about B.C. 243—or, according to some estimates, B.C. 177), which corresponds with the time of Pingwang of the Chan family (b.c. 770—the Chinese date of Buddha's Nirvana being different from that which is usually received in India.) Hence it may be said that the diffusion of the great doctrine can be attributed to the influence of this image. For, apart from the power of the divine teacher Mait-reya, who followed in the footsteps of Sakya, who would have been sufficient to cause the knowledge of the three precious ones to be spread so far, that even men on the outskirts of the world acquired that knowledge? We may conclude, therefore, with certainty, that the origin of this diffusion of the law of Buddha was no human work, but sprung from the same cause as the dream of Ming Ti (pp. 23-25). The three precious ones above referred to, are the Buddhist trinity, everywhere acknowledged, Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha—or, as some say, Buddha—the law and the church. The dream of Ming Ti resembles that which we know as the Annunciation of the Virgin Mary, and foretells the coming of "the Saviour," one of the names given to Siddartha. The vision of a divine being, 70 feet high, with a body like gold, and his head glorious as the sun—one who is fanciful may here discern a likeness to the individual described in Rev. i. 13, seq.—induced the king to send to India to seek after the law of Fo, or Buddha. Some one speaking of two great towers adorned with all the precious substances, which had been erected at a certain town—the Taxila of the Greeks—to commemorate episodes in the life of Buddha, makes the remark "The kings, ministers, and people of all the surrounding countries vie with each other in making religious offerings at these places, in scattering flowers and burning incense continually" (p. 33).

"In the city of Hilo is the Vitiara containing the relic of the skull-bone of Buddha. This Vitiara is entirely covered with plates of gold, and decorated with the seven precious substances (gold, silver, lapis lazuli, crystal, cornelian, coral, and ruby.) The king of the country reverences in a high degree this sacred relic." As this example shows well the Buddhist veneration for memorials of the dead, I will not quote more. It is clear that old bones were regarded with religious awe in Hindostan before they were enshrined in Christendom. In the case above recorded, "extraordinary pains are taken to preserve the relic from theft or substitution, and the king offers flowers and incense in front of it daily, then bends his head to the ground before it in adoration, and departs." In another place Buddha's robe is kept, although we may fairly doubt whether he ever possessed one, but doubtless it is quite as authentic as "the holy coat" of Treves, or the Virgin Mary's milk. There is another relic of Sakya not yet copied by Christian pagans, viz., the shadow of the great teacher—which lives in a cave, and can only be seen by the faithful (p. 45, 46). We commend this to thaumaturgical Gallican divines, such as those who describe how certain it is that Mary of Judea came to show herself at Lourdes, and to talk French.

On arriving at the Punjaub the record states, "The law of Buddha is prosperous and flourishing here..." On seeing disciples from China coming among them they were much affected, and spoke thus: "How wonderful to think that men from the ends of the earth should know the character of this religion, and should come thus far to seek the law of Buddha. We received from them all that we required, and were treated according to the provisions of the law" (p. 51,52). "All the kingdoms beyond the sandy deserts are spoken of as belonging to Western India. The kings of all these countries firmly believe in the law of Buddha" (pp. 53, 54).

In the following, we may see the prototype of monasteries, "From the time of Buddha's Nirvana, the kings and nobles of all these countries began to erect viharas for the priesthood, and to endow them with lands, gardens, houses, and also men and oxen to cultivate them. The records of these endowments being engraved on sheets of copper, have been handed down from one king to another, so that no one has dared to deprive them of possession, and they continue to this day to enjoy their proper revenues. All the resident priests have chambers, beds, coverlets, food, drink, and clothes provided for them without stint or reserve. Thus it is in all places. The priests, on the other hand, continually employ themselves in reciting their scriptures, in works of benevolence, or in profound meditation" (pp. 55, 56).

It is very important that we should notice, although it is unnecessary to dwell upon the fact, that the pilgrims visited the spot whence Buddha went up to heaven to preach his law to his mother Maya, who died when her child was seven days old, and, consequently, long before he became "the Saviour." The son remained with his parent three months (p. 62.) Jesus, it will be remembered, only preached to the spirits in prison during a day and a-half—which, by common consent, passes amongst Christians for three days. I may also notice that there is mentioned (p. 66), an idea that three Buddhas existed before the advent of Sakya Muni, and that the following are their precepts, translated from the Chinese copy of a Buddhist book:—1. The heart carefully avoiding idle dissipation, diligently applying itself to religion, forsaking all lust and consequent disappointment, fixed and immovable, attains Nirvana (rest.) 2. Practising no vice, advancing in the exercise of virtue, and purifying the mind from evil; this is the doctrine of all the Buddhas. 3. To keep one's tongue, to cleanse one's mind, to do no ill—this is the way to purify oneself throughout, and to attain this state of discipline is the doctrine of all the great sages (p. 66).

The Buddhists also preserve impressions of Siddartha's feet and show them to pilgrims, just as certain papal priests show the impressions of St. Peter's feet at a church a little outside Rome, on the Appian way. The pilgrims "visit Kapilavastu, now a desert, but once the royal residence of Suddhodana. There are here a congregation of priests and ten families of lay people. In the ruined palace there is a picture of the Prince Apparent and his mother (supposed to be) taken at the time of his miraculous conception. The prince is represented as descending towards his mother riding on a white elephant." This elephant came from the Tusita heaven surrounded by light like the sun, and entered the left side of the mother. As the elephant is the strongest of known terrestrial animals, it certainly represented "The power of the Highest" (see Luke i. 35), and we may draw one of two inferences—either that the sons of Maya and Mary were conceived equally miraculously, or that the story of one is just as true or as incredible as that of the other. Certainly the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception was known in India long before it was enunciated by a Christian Pope in Rome. Perhaps, had Pio Nono known that he was copying a Buddhistic story, he would have wavered long before he assimilated his religion to that of Siddartha. At the same locality a tower is raised to mark the spot where the Rishi (Saint or Prophet) Asita calculated the horoscope of Sakya, and declared that he would become a supreme Buddha—a legend which is very similar to that told of old Simeon and the infant Jesus (Luke ii. 25, seq.). The pilgrims were also shown the garden—not a stable—in which Maya brought forth her son, and wherein immediately afterwards the infant walked. Two dragon kings—perhaps wise men from the East—washed the infant's body, and this spot afterwards became a sacred well (p. 88).

We must pass by an account of a miracle, to the full as wonderful and quite as incredible as that of Saint Ursula and the eleven thousand virgins, who left their bones at Cologne because it has no distinct reference to Buddha. (P. 97)—But I may mention that the Chinese writer states after the end of the story, that a certain violation of the law occurred one hundred years after Sakya's death, and upon this record Mr Beal has the following important note—"This refers to the second great council of the Buddhist church. According to Singhalese authorities (Mahawanso) there were three great convocations or councils—1st, immediately after Buddha's death to compile the authorised scriptures; 2d, to refute certain errors that had crept into the church; 3d, under the great Asokâ," (p. 99). We may doubt the value of the Mahawanso, but at the same time we may express a wish that early Christians had even a tradition of a council to compile authorised scriptures about the son of Mary ere time sufficient had elapsed to allow "the marvellous" to develop itself into "the incredible."

In like manner I must omit the description of a procession of images, amongst which that of Buddha is conspicuous; the fête is held at Patna, supposed to be the ancient Palimbothra where Asokâ reigned. It resembles in almost all its details the grand processions of the Papists on certain occasions,—lamps, lights, games, riot, and religious offerings are mingled together for the healthy and for the sick, and wonderful cures are provided as far as possible. To this account is to be appended a very significant, perhaps I might say satirical, note by the translator of the pilgrims' manuscript. "From the whole of this account (of the procession of images), it would seem that the Buddhist worship had already begun to degenerate from its primitive simplicity and severity. Plays and music and concerts, are strictly forbidden by the rules of the order; we can begin to see how Buddhism lapsed into Sivite worship, and sank finally into the horrors of Jaganath" (p. 107). To the thoughtful reader of our christian history, this note upon Buddhist processions of images is painfully pregnant. It reminds us that the followers of Maya's son and Mary's alike lapsed into paganism, and almost by the same stages. We cannot accuse the Hindoos of copying the orgies of the Christian saturnalia or carnival, nor do we think that the Europeans cared to imitate the Hindoos; but what we do believe is that both parties have fallen lower and lower from their pristine purity in consequence of the gradually increasing feeling that the generality of human beings can only be brought under priestly power by an appeal to their animal propensities.

Some affirm, with great show of argumentation, that it is man's bestial propensities which lead his race to hell. It may be so, but then, on the other hand, it is certain that ecclesiastics endeavour to chain us to their chariots by pandering to, managing, exciting, or otherwise playing upon those propensities, which man has in common with the sheep, the ox, the tiger, the serpent, and the elephant. Every form of religion, yet promulgated, that appeals to sound sense, thought, and reason, has failed from the want of followers capable of dominating their passions. Than a pure religion based upon thoughts such as Sakya Muni and the son of Mary gave utterance to, nothing seems grander, but such is its nature that it can only be fully embraced by a few. If all are poor, none can live upon alms—if all sell their worldly goods to purchase Heaven, no buyers will be found in the market. The Buddhist and the Christian anchorite may, for a time, live on charity, yet each succeeding generation of ascetics will more and more dislike the plan of winning food by misery. We have seen how kings made grand provision for the comfort of the priestly followers of the son of Maya; and in later times, we have seen how the followers of the son of Mary have, by artfulness, provided many similar homes for themselves. Yet, with all this, there are both Buddhists and Christians who have protested, by their actions, against religious luxury of every kind. Each of my readers may judge of what spirit he is, by asking himself whether he regards such individuals as wise or foolish.

The pilgrims pass on to the place where five hundred saints assembled after Sakya's death to arrange the collection of sacred books (p. 118)—thence to the spot where Siddartha bathed, and the Dêva or Angel held out the branch of a tree to assist him in coming out of the water (p. 121)—thence to the spot where Buddha was tempted by three daughters of Maka as courtesans, a more severe temptation than befel the Christian Anthony—and by Mara himself with a vast army; but all uselessly, for Sakya was as impregnable as Jesus. And we find that in the same spot he subsequently underwent mortification, not for forty days only, but for six years. All of these localities are marked by towers, which must, according to ecclesiastical reasoning, demonstrate the truth of the legends.

After a very long search—for the purpose of Fah Hian was to seek for copies of the Vinaya Pitaka—he found his exertions to find a copy of the sacred work were useless, because, throughout the whole of Northern India, the various masters trusted to tradition only for their knowledge of the precepts, and had no written codes. The pilgrims, however, when they arrived in Middle India, found a copy, "which was that used by the first great assembly of priests convened during Buddha's lifetime" (p. 142); this appears to have been generally regarded as the most correct and complete (p. 144). Fah Hian also obtained "one copy of Precepts, in manuscript, comprising about 7000 gâthas (verses or stanzas). This was the same as that generally used in China. In this place also an imperfect copy of the Abhidharma was obtained, containing 6000 gâthas; also, an abreviated form of Sutras, or Precepts, containing 2500 verses in an abreviated form; also, another expanded Sutra, with 5000 verses, and a second copy of the Abhidharma," according to the school of the Mahâ Sanghihas (the greater vehicle). "On this account Fah Hian abode in the place (Patma, the ancient Palibothra) for the space of three years, engaged in learning to read the Sanscrit books, to converse in that language, and to copy the Precepts. Here his companion, To Ching, remained; but Fah Hian, desiring with his whole heart to spread the knowledge of the Precepts throughout China, returned alone" (p. 146). This pilgrim then goes to the kingdom of Champa, where he stopped two years, to copy out sacred Sutras, and to take impressions of the figures used in worship. Here the law of Buddha was generally respected. He then sailed in a great merchant vessel for Ceylon (p. 148). From this expression we presume that he entered a seaport, and, as such, one likely to have been reached by some Christian missionary, if any had ever visited India, as Paul attained Asia Minor, Italy, &c. All that we learn about it, however, is in a translator's note, which tells us that the place was mentioned by another China man, Hiouen Thsang, who spoke of the number of heretical sects who were mixed together here—Buddhism being here corrupted at an early period by local superstitions. In Ceylon Fah Hian remained two years, and, continuing his search for the sacred books, obtained a copy of the Vinaya Pitaka, of the great Agama, and the miscellaneous Agama (books of elementary doctrine), also a volume of miscellaneous collections from the Pitakas, all of which were hitherto entirely unknown in China. Having obtained these works in the original language (Pali), he forthwith shipped himself on board a great merchant vessel, which carried about 200 men, and started for his native land (p. 166). "After Fah Hian left home, he was five years in arriving at Mid India. He resided there during six years, and was three more ere he arrived again in China. He had successively passed through thirty different countries." In all the countries of India, after passing the sandy desert (of Gobi), the dignified carriage of the priesthood, and the surprising influence of religion (amongst the people), cannot be adequately described... "Having been preserved by Divine power (by the influences of the Three honourable Ones), and brought through all dangers safely, he was induced to commit to writing the record of his travels, desirous that the virtuous of all ages may be informed of them as well as himself" (p. 173).

After reading this account, we think that no thoughtful man can reasonably assert that Christianity was taught in India at an early period, was widely adopted, and became the parent of Buddhism. If, in rejoinder, we are told that no writers have asserted that there were Christians in India in olden times, except in Malabar, the answer is, that these were described by those who first met with their successors as totally distinct from the Hindoos, and, consequently, neither Buddhists nor Brahmins. Moreover, we are told that they were regarded by the Holy Inquisition of Europe as heretics, and were, consequently, persecuted by the Christians (see Gibbon's Roman Empire, vol. viii, 355).

Rosse, in his book of dates (London, 1858), speaks of an Indian embassy to Constantine the Great, a.d. 334, and another sent to Constantius the Second, but received by Julian, A.D. 362. I cannot, however, as yet, find his authority. But Socrates, in his Ecclesiastical History, book i, ch. 19, about A.D. 331, speaks of a treaty which had been in existence a short time before, between the Romans and the Indians, but which had been recently violated. He also, in the same chapter, states that there were Christians amongst the Roman merchants in India—no town or locality being given, however, so that we cannot test his assertion—but that they did not then unite to worship. We find also, from the same chapter, that up to that period there were no Christian Indians known.

Coupling the foregoing fragments of history together, we may safely assert that India, generally, was Buddhist in A.D. 400, and that, according to Pliny, the Romans, or, rather, the Alexandrians, had been in yearly communication with the country, for at least three centuries, at the time of Constantine. As it appears that there were Roman merchants in India, so we presume that there were Hindoo traders resident in Egypt. The presumption is, that these were Buddhists, and that they were attended, or followed, by missionary Buddhist priests. Absolute proof of this there is none.

We now turn to Gibbon's history, and inquire into the period when monastic asceticism first began to prevail in Egypt, the necessary residence of our presumed Hindoo traffickers. We find (see Decline and Fall, chapter 37) that Anthony, an Egyptian, and unable to write in Greek, living in the lower parts of Thebais, distributed his patrimony, deserted his family and native home, lived amongst tombs, or in a ruined tower, then in the desert, and then in some lonely spot, near the Red Sea, where he found shade and water. It certainly seems clear that he took the son of Maya, rather than the child of Mary, as his exemplar. At and after this time, the rage for asceticism spread amongst the inhabitants of Eastern Africa as conspicuously as it had done in Oriental Asia at the time of Asoka. It is difficult to read the chapter of Gibbon's history to which we refer, and a history of Buddhism, without regarding Egypt, and her miserable ascetics, in the same light as we look upon the folks of Hindustan and Thibet. If Jesus of Nazareth had dictated such a life, surely his early followers would have been more conspicuous in their habitual mortifications than their later disciples were. The son of man—the child of Mary—"came eating and drinking," and was called "a gluttonous man and a wine bibber, a friend of publicans and sinners" (Luke vii. 34; Matt, xi. 19). Not so the son of Maya. The Apostles of Jesus had power to lead about a wife or a sister, and they did so. Neither Paul nor Peter shunned woman's society, nor did they practise poverty; nay, they worked with their own hands, lest they should have to live on alms (2 Thess. iii. 8), and they collected money for poor saints from the wealthier brethren. There was no asceticism here, nor can we find, in any part of the New Testament, a text upon which a system of austerity can be founded.

We might, perhaps, think comparatively little of the parallel which we have drawn between Buddhism, and Christianity, did we not recognize the fact, that almost everyone of the later developments of the latter had, for centuries before, found a place in the former, even including, as we have mentioned, the dogma of the immaculate conception.

To the preceding considerations we may add another, which, as Ivanhoe said of himself, "is of lesser renown and lower rank, and assumed into the honourable company less to aid their enterprise than to make up their number." Standing alone it may have small power, but as a link in a chain it is important. We refer to the abundant testimony which we possess of the strength of Grecian influence upon the tenets of Christianity. Without laying any stress upon the fact that the whole of the New Testament extant is written in Greek, we may advert to the current belief amongst thoughtful scholars, that the so-called Gospel of St. John was written by some Alexandrian Greek about 150 A.D., or by one who was imbued with the philosophy of Plato. Sharpe has distinctly shown that the doctrine of the trinity was held in Ancient Egypt, and first adopted, then promulgated, by the Egyptian or Alexandrian divines. The influence of Greek ideas upon Philo Judæus is very conspicuous.

We may now turn our attention to one statement about the Athenians, viz., "that they and the strangers which were there spent their time in nothing else than to tell and to hear some new thing," and that they were so particular—in this respect resembling the Ancient Peruvians—in adopting foreign gods, that they had an altar to the Unknown Deity (Acts xvii). To this we must add what Sozomen says of them (Ecclesiastical History, book ii. chap. 24)—that the most celebrated philosophers amongst the Greeks took pleasure in exploring unknown cities and regions. Plato, the friend of Socrates, dwelt for a time amongst the Egyptians, in order to acquaint himself with their manners and customs. He likewise sailed to Sicily, to examine its craters.... These craters were likewise explored by Empedocles. Democritus of Coos relates that he visited many cities, and countries, and nations, and that eighty years of his life were spent in travelling in foreign lands. Besides these philosophers, thousands of wise men amongst the Greeks, ancient and modern, habituated themselves to travel. Solon, it is well known, travelled to the court of Croesus, and it is affirmed that Pythagoras visited India. Sozomen makes the above statement to explain how it was that Merope of Tyre, with two young relatives, visited India, the two latter becoming its first two bishops.

Nothing is more probable than that Greeks, who had resided for a time in India, on their return, believing that as they had recognized in Hindostan an earnest form of Christianity, differing from the Alexandrian standard only in a few minor points, thought it right to introduce into western religion Buddhist practices—first into Egypt, via Alexandria, and thence into Europe. We certainly cannot prove that they did it, but there is a very good reason for believing so. The doctrines of Jesus emanated, we believe, from some early Asokâ's missionaries; whilst the doctrines of the Alexandrians and the Ascetics, came from subsequent Buddhists, who placed their stamp on Christianity once more.

Thus we have been led, by a strict inquiry into every extant testimony known, to believe that the faith taught by Siddartha, was held for at least 250—and most probably, 500 years, before our era. Still further, we have been led to believe, from the extraordinary energy and success of Buddhist missionaries in the three centuries before Christ—a success before which all Christian missionary enterprise pales—that emissaries from Asokâ's colleges of priests, penetrated westward with the Greeks as far as the eastern shores of the Mediterranean, and forced some devout Jews to modify their belief. But, though it is probable that the Hindoo teachers introduced the morality inculcated by Sakya Muni, it seems certain that they could not induce their Hebrew disciples to abandon their implicit trust in those writings which they had been induced to think were absolutely inspired or written by direct command of the Almighty—consequently, Christianity must be regarded not as pure Buddhism, but a form of it modified by Jewish traditions. But when those who embraced the religion of Jesus, had learned to distrust the literal truth of the Old Testament, and had the certainty that the prophesies about the immediate destruction of the world were false, they came again into contact with Buddhist teaching, and were content to forego Judaism. They did not, however, give up Jesus as the Saviour. Instead of believing with Sakya, that man suffered for his own sin, they clung to the legend of Adam and Eve, and affirmed that suffering was introduced into the whole world by this very original couple. Instead of Nirvana, their heaven was Ouranos—the sky above them. Instead of an abode where all the senses were at rest, they adopted the idea of a golden city, with a river of crystal running through it; brilliant with jewels, and guarded by gates and walls in which all the good should spend their time in singing and music. The Christians adopted all the Asceticism, dirt, and love of vermin, that the disciples of Sakya, and even Siddartha himself, delighted in—but they nevertheless clung to the idea that the world was sure to be destroyed, and that Jesus would come again. It is indeed, difficult to reconcile the belief, that he who washed his disciples' feet, and praised a woman for cleaning and anointing his own, sanctioned an idea which, throughout centuries, urged religionists to be filthy; yet we must do so if we are orthodox. We have, indeed, similar anomalies now. Devout Christians tell us that this world ought to be made a preparation for another; and that the main joy of heaven will be an indefinite increase of knowledge. Yet these same people affirm, sometimes in distinct terms, that an extension of scientific attainments, and a constant inquiry into the will of God, as expressed in the works of His hands, are snares of the Devil, and so to be avoided by all good people. The Orthodox as a rule believe—though few venture to affirm it, that Jehovah loves the fools the best, and that ignorance is godliness.

## CHAPTER VI.

         Estimation of the Bible. The Dhammapada and Hebrew (sacred)
         books. Certain important dates. Jews were never
         missionaries. Precepts of Buddha. Contrasts. How to overcome
         undesirable thoughts. Knowledge beats prayer. Sunday
         proverbs. New birth. Divines preach brotherly love in the
         pulpit, and provoke hate when out of it. Buddhist precept is
         "do as I do," not "do as I say." The narrow way of the
         Gospel finds an origin in Buddhism. One law broken all law
         broken—a Buddhist maxim. Sakya taught about a future world.
         Parallel passages. Effect of Buddhist and Christian
         teaching. Parallel passages about truth and almsgiving.
         Ignorance a Buddhist vice and a Christian virtue.
         Suppressio veri, suggestio falsi in the pulpit Classes in
         the religious world. Why ignorance is cherished. Ignorance
         often more profitable than knowledge. Examples. Charlatans
         live by the fools. Honest doctors and parsons must be poor.
         Poverty an essential part of Buddhism. Hierarchs are quite
         unnecessary to the enlightened man. Parallel passages again.
         Unphilosophical dicta in Buddhism and Bible. Prosperity not
         a proof of propriety, and misery not always a reward of
         badness. Lions and lambs. Design in creation. Right and
         wrong—do they exist before the Creator. False analogies.
         Persecution a Christian but not a Buddhist practice. Popgun
         thunders from the Vatican. Age not equivalent to wisdom.
         Siddartha did not prophesy, and so made no mistake about
         that which was to follow. More negatives and positives.
         Another contrast No obscene stories in Buddhist as in Jewish
         scriptures—no legend of Lot and his daughters, David and
         Bathsheba, of Onan, Judah and Tamar, Zimri, Cozbi, and
         Phinehas, and a host of others. A good deal of nonsense in
         all ancient writings. The foolish stories and prophecies of
         the Bible—if abstracted, little remains. The little might
         be improved by extracts from Plato, Epictetus, and Buddhist
         scriptures, and even from those of Confucius.

From the earliest times which I can remember, I have heard the English Bible spoken of with the utmost reverence, as the undoubted word of God, as a revelation of the will, ways, and even the thoughts of the Supreme Being. Everything which it contains has been regarded as infallibly true, and the wisdom, goodness, mercy, and justice of its doctrines and laws have been judged to be unimpeachable. From the pulpit of many earnest divines I have heard innumerable sermons whose burden has been praise of, and admiration for, the morality of the Old and New Testaments, the sublimity of the language therein used, and the loftiness of the thoughts embodied. From those same teachers, and from a still greater number of laymen, I have heard the assertion repeatedly made that the Bible must be divinely inspired, because no other set of men, except those who composed its books, could write so powerfully; and depict so graphically, the wants, the woes, the pleasures, the passions, the aspirations, and the doubts of the human mind. By a great majority, if not by the whole of our imperfectly educated ministers and people, the assertion to which we here refer is raised to the position of an argument; and any opponent who ventures to question the truth of the assumption, is challenged to show a book of divinity equal or superior to the Bible.

The worthlessness of the argument might be readily shown to any one accustomed to use his reason, by pointing out that the religious books of the Ancient Egyptians, Babylonians, Assyrians, Medea, Persians, and Etruscans, are lost to us. We may compare the assertion with that which Englishmen might have made, to the effect that the British breed of horses was superior to any other, for no one could show them a better; yet as soon as our Crusaders became acquainted with the Arabian steed, the value of the assumption was destroyed. Yet such a remark would be wholly inoperative on the mind of every bigot whose judgment of evidence is always bribed by his prejudice. Consequently, to make any serious impression upon the mind of the Bibliolater, it is desirable, if possible, to make copies of the holy images worshipped by other nations, under the name of sacred books, and to place these side by side with that grotesque production, which, for our purposes, may be compared to Diana of the Ephesians—the thing which fell down from Jupiter.

Yet even when we do bring from distant countries, to which in our complacency we give the name of "heathen," copies of their deified books, and show their equality with, or superiority to that which we are told was arranged by the disposition of angels (Acts vii. 53)—the scriptures that Paul (2 Tim. iii. 16) affirms were entirely given by inspiration of God [—Greek—], see also 1 Pet. i. 11, 12,—we are met by the assertion, if the equality is allowed, that the Pagan writings have been copied from, or are traceable to, the writers in the Old or in the New Testament.

Whenever a thoughtless theologian asserts that such a thing must be so, he is not by any means particular as to the facts upon which he bases his belief. This weakness of his is so conspicuous to the logical observer, that he sometimes feels pity at having to wound a mind so earnest as to be unable to use its reason. He almost regards himself as a man fighting a child or a weak woman. Yet men will, in their power and knowledge, deprive a baby of a bon-bon, which it is sucking eagerly, if they know that it is poisonous, and will lay violent hands upon a tender girl who, in a whirlwind of passion, is about to throw herself before a railway train. After the event both the individuals may learn to thank the roughness which saved them; and I feel sure that many an earnest religionist, who now thinks that the philosophers are treating him cruelly, by trying to deprive him of a cherished faith, will ultimately be grateful for having been induced to cease grovelling in the dust of a coarse antiquity.

If we endeavour to ascertain the basis of the belief that everything which is good must have come from the Bible, we find that it exists in the assertion that the Jews were the chosen people of God, selected by Him to receive a record of His past doings and His future desires. Hence it is argued, that all who have not been taught by the Jews, or through their influence, are without God in the world—poor, benighted pagans. To support assumptions so monstrous as this, there is not a tittle of evidence beyond the existence of certain stories in some books, said to contain a truthful record of facts. But although the theologian heaps up protestation upon asseveration until the mass attains an imposing size, the whole is not of more substantial value than a huge bubble blown by an energetic school boy. If millions could be brought to believe that such a hollow sphere was a solid, painted with the most resplendent colours obtained from the celestial mansions, it would not make it other than a film of soap and water filled with air.

Yet though the unanimous consent of myriads cannot convert foam into a solid substance, a mass of froth may be treated as if it were something better, so long as all agree not to test its qualities; and any book may in like manner be regarded as of divine origin, so long as everybody determines not to test the reality of the opinion. We can easily imagine that those who have been educated to believe in the absolute density of a bubble, must be greatly distressed when it bursts. Indeed in every mercantile community we see frequent illustrations of this. Designing men weave a plausible story, and by inflated words induce a number of thoughtless people to believe their statements, adopt their promises, and act upon their recommendation. Whilst all seems to be prosperous, every dupe repels with indignation the statement that the whole of his confraternity are deceived. If faith in the stability of a banking house could have upheld it, Overend & Gurnets would never have broken. If then faith, the most complete and child-like trust in the truth of anything,—say particularly in a certain book—will not make it valuable if it be in reality worthless, then all those who wish to feel beneath them the everlasting arms of truth, should inquire into current beliefs rather than take everything for granted.

At the time when the wealth, power, and stability of the Bank above referred to were implicitly believed in by the many, and especially trusted by its shareholders, there were, outside of its pale, many individuals who felt sure that the establishment was very shaky, and a few who were aware that it was toppling to its fall. If then, at that time, any customer or proprietor, feeling a doubt about its safety, should have endeavoured to investigate the rumours which were adverse to it; and should have acted as reason dictated, after he had weighed the alleged facts on both sides, he might have came to a safe decision and saved his money. What is true in this case may be applied to the Bible—the Bank upon which so many draw large drafts, and in whose stability they have unbounded confidence. The thoughtless may, and doubtless will, continue to trust it implicitly—the thoughtful will probably consult, not only the Bibliolaters, but those who put no faith whatever in the volume, and judge for themselves.

The fear which many men have of biblical inquiry, has for a long period struck me as being inexplicable, inasmuch as it is at variance with the assertion of these very same people, that an examination of the book must prove it to be infallibly true. But investigation into a supposed truth can only end by confirming it fully, and thus making the truth more useful; or by demonstrating that the belief entertained is untenable. It has been the dread—nay the certainty, of the latter result, which has deterred many great minds from investigating the matter. Amongst these the late Professor Faraday was conspicuous, for we learn from a letter in the Athenaeum of Jan. 7, 1870, written by one of his own personal friends, that he—perhaps the most accomplished seeker after physical truth in his time, declined firmly to search into the value of the commonly received notions respecting "the scriptures," as he felt sure that his faith in them would thereby be shaken. Yet he was illogical enough to use them as a basis for his theological teaching. He preached to others from texts in which he had no confidence; and supported his doctrines by quotations from a book which, in his secret heart, he felt was valueless as an exponent of historical truth, or orthodox teaching.

Before we proceed to the comparison between the "Dhammapada" and the Bible, it will be judicious to place fairly before the reader the points which we hope to elucidate. We wish to show, by a collation of dates and doctrines, that the two are wholly independent of each other, and as we have elsewhere remarked, that if there has been any relationship between Buddhist and Christian writings, the first have had more than two centuries' precedence over the last. We wish to compare the morality taught by Buddha, with that promulgated in the Old and New Testaments. We desire impartially to examine into the question, whether the claim for inspiration can be allowed in either one case or the other, or in both together—whether, indeed, it is possible to believe the Hebrew scriptures to be dictated by God, without giving a similar confidence to the teachings of Sakya Muni—or, assuming that there is to be found a code of pure morality or ethics which we may suppose to be of universal application, we shall endeavour to ascertain whether the Hebrews and the followers of Mary, or the disciples of the son of Maya Deva, have made the nearest approach to its discovery and establishment. Collaterally we shall examine whether Jesus has a greater claim than Buddha to be the Son of God. The Dhammapada which has recently (Trübner & Co., London, 1870*) been translated by Max Mülller from the Pali, is one of the many books which profess to give, as our Gospels and Epistles do of Christ, the teachings or precepts of Buddha. These were for some two or three centuries traditional only; but about the period, B.C. 300, many, if not most of them, were committed to writing. As far as can be ascertained, the year b.c. 246 was the period of the first Buddhist council under Asok, and shortly after this, Mahuida, a priestly son of Asokâ, went as a missionary to Ceylon; other emissaries went to Burmah, China, Japan, and it is believed elsewhere. The oral promulgation of the Dhammapada would probably begin about b.c. 560—twenty years or thereabouts before the death of Siddartha. If we turn to contemporary history in the west of Asia, we find that at this period Jerusalem was in ruins, and the Jews were captives in Babylonia—no copies of any Hebrew sacred book were known to be in existence (2 Esdras xiv. 21; 2 Maccabees ii. 1-13—see also 1 Maccabees i. 21-23), and, so far as we could learn, India was a country wholly unknown to the Shemitic race. The acquaintanceship between Hindustan and Europe seems to have been made in the time when the Greek monarch, Alexander, overthrew Darius of Persia. Alexander invaded India about b.c. 327, consequently we infer that there was no possibility of Buddha being influenced by western notions in b.c. 560.

         * Buddhaghosa's Parables, translated from Burmese, by Capt
         T. Rogers; with an introduction, containing Buddha's
         Dhammapada, or "Path of Virtue," by Max Müller.   Trübner &
         Co., London, 1870.

To these considerations we must add the fact that the Jews have never been, from the earliest to the latest times, a missionary nation,—indeed, their laws and precepts forced them to be so peculiarly reserved, that even if they had known about India they would not have sent their emissaries there, inasmuch as the Mosaic law obliged them to present themselves at the Temple at Jerusalem thrice a-year, which was wholly incompatible with distant travel. Moreover, there are many extant histories to show that intelligent westerns went to India for knowledge and religion, and never seemed to think of carrying their own faith thither. The whole course of history points to religion and civilization coming westerly from India or Central Asia.

The dates above given will clearly show that Sakya Muni could not have derived his ideas from the teaching of Jesus, or of the Talmudists, neither of whom were in existence when he flourished. Whatever similarity, therefore, we find in the doctrines, &c., of the two, cannot be accounted for by supposing that Christian missionaries carried the New Testament to India. The reverse is far more probable, as we have demonstrated in a preceding chapter.

Some inquirers into the history of the sons of Maya Deva and of Mary are so convinced of the priority of the first, and of the close resemblance of the incidents in the lives and in the teaching of the two, that they have found themselves forced, reluctantly, to consider the question—whether Christianity is not Buddhism altered in some respects by Judaism. This point having been elsewhere spoken of, we will not pursue it. But a far more important, and, for many Christians, a more momentous inquiry, is, whether we can speak of the Son of Mary as the offspring of Jehovah, and yet affirm that the child of Maya Deva was nothing but a common man. So deeply have some been moved by this consideration, that I have positively heard the opinion broached, that the Indian sage was the very same as he who subsequently was put to death in Jerusalem. Wild though the allegation is, there is quite as great an amount of probability in it as in the assertion that Jesus went and preached unto those spirits which were sometime disobedient, i.e., in the time of Noah (1 Pet. iii. 19, 20), and were, consequently, then in prison, or that Buddha went to his dead mother, and converted her to his own faith. About supernatural births we shall treat in a succeeding part.

Without incumbering our pages with all the precepts of the Dhammapada, we will copy a few in detail to show the reader their style, and then we will only quote those which are most appropriate to our subject. The opening paragraphs singularly resemble those in Bacon's Novum Organon, and run thus—"All that we are, is the result of what we have thought: it is founded on our thoughts. If a man speaks or acts with an evil thought, pain follows him, as the wheel follows the foot of him who draws the carriage (lv.)."

2. "All that we are is the result of what we have thought: it is founded on our thoughts, it is made up of our thoughts. If a man speaks or acts with a pure thought, happiness follows him, like a shadow that never leaves him" (lvi. et. seq.).

3. "He abused me, he beat me, he defeated me, he robbed me—hatred in those who harbour such thoughts will never cease."**

4. "He abused me, he beat me, he defeated me, he robbed me—hatred in those who do not harbour such thoughts will cease."

5. "For hatred does not cease by hatred at any time; hatred ceases by love"—this is an old rule.

         * The figures refer to the separate precepts, which are
         given in numerical order.

         ** With this and the following saying we may compare the
         words of the Psalms—"Do not I hate those, O Lord, that hate
         thee? and am I not grieved with those that rise up against
         thee? I hate them with a perfect hatred; I count them mine
         enemies" (Ps. cxxxix. 21, 22). The words of David, said to
         be a man after God's own heart, are equally opposed to the
         law of love, viz., "Thou hast given me the necks of my
         enemies, that I might destroy them that hate me" (2 Sam.
         xxii. 41; Ps. xviii. 40); I shall see my desire on them that
         hate me" (Ps. cxviii. 7). In Deuteronomy we find, moreover,
         that indulgence in hatred is attributed to the Almighty,
         "who repayeth them that hate Him to their face to destroy
         them: He (God) will not be slack to him that hateth Him, he
         will repay him to his face" (chap. vii. 10). Hatred of their
         enemies is, indeed, everywhere encouraged in the Jewish
         Scriptures, called sacred, and the Hebrew Jehovah is
         described as one with whom the power to hate and revenge
         Himself is a favourite luxury.

6. "And some do not know that we must come to an end here; but others know it, and hence their quarrels cease."

7. "He who lives looking for pleasures only, his senses uncontrolled, immoderate in his enjoyments, idle and weak, Mara (the Tempter, the Adversary, or Satan) will certainly overcome him, as the wind throws down a weak tree."

8. "He who lives without looking for pleasures, his senses well controlled, in his enjoyments moderate, faithful and strong, Mara will certainly not overcome him, any more than the wind throws down a rocky mountain."

11. "They who imagine truth in untruth, and see untruth in truth, never arrive at truth, but follow vain desires."

15. "The evildoer mourns in this world, and he mourns in the next, he mourns in both."....

16. "The virtuous man delights in this world, and he delights in the next; he delights in both."

We may pause here, and ask ourselves whether, throughout the whole of the Old Testament, we can find a single passage which so distinctly points to a future state as does this Buddhistic teaching. Yet bibliolaters assert that the effusions of Jewish writers were inspired by God! Mortal men cannot tell what takes place after their bodies have become dissipated into various chemical compounds; consequently, they cannot decide, with certainty, which deserves the greater credit for accuracy—the Dhammapada, or the Hebrew Scriptures; but all those who believe in the teaching of Jesus are bound to acknowledge that the Indian sage was inspired by a power superior to that which is said to have dictated to the Israelite.

How profitably, again, might the following observations be enunciated from our pulpits, instead of the vapid and superficial divinity, which disgraces both the utterer and the listener:—

21. "Reflection is the path of immortality, thoughtlessness the path of death. Those who reflect do not die; those who are thoughtless are as if dead already."

25. "By rousing himself, by reflection, by restraint and control, the wise man may make for himself an island, which no flood can overwhelm."

27. "Follow not after vanity, nor after the enjoyment of love and lust. He who reflects and meditates obtains ample joy"

We dare not affirm that the writer of the first epistle of John was familiar with the Dhammapada, but his words (chap. ii, v. 15), "Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world," &c., are as purely Buddhistic as if he had known the doctrine of the Indian sage.

We doubt whether, in the whole Bible, a parallel passage to the following can be found:—

36. "Let the wise man guard his thoughts, for they are difficult to perceive, very artful, and they rush wherever they list: thoughts well guarded bring happiness."

It is true that in the Psalms, and elsewhere, there is a full recognition of the power of God to know, and even to punish man for, bad thoughts, but there is no precept recommending man to cultivate his mental powers for the pleasure which the task will bring. The following observation is equally to be commended:—

40. "Knowing that this body is (fragile) like a jar, and making this thought firm like a fortress, one should attack Mâra (the tempter, or Satan, the adversary) with the weapon of knowledge, one should watch him when conquered, and never cease from the fight."

A few moments' consideration here, will show the reader that there is a fundamental distinction between the theology of the East and West in reference to the management of "the thoughts of the heart." Jew and Christian teachers alike encourage their disciples to combat evil thoughts by prayer and by fasting, but they never once allude to the value of "knowledge" as a weapon. Yet, of its power, relatively to supplication, none can have a doubt. It it probable that no man or woman can attain to adult age without being aware of the intrusion, into their minds, of thoughts, whose presence greatly distresses the individual, and the worst of these is, that they take so complete a possession, as not to be driven away by any simple wrestling with them. In this emergency the devout Christian has recourse to prayer, which serves to nail the intruder even more closely to his seat. The philosopher, on the other hand, turns his mind to think actively upon some other subject than that which has intruded upon him, and as soon as he has fixed his attention upon the second, the first immediately withdraws. Smarting, for example, under a sense of ridicule from some accident which has happened to himself in a ball-room, or other assembly, a man may retire to his pillow, yet find thereupon no rest. He sees, every minute, the merry faces which laughed when he put the sprig of lavender, that his lovely partner gave him for a keepsake, behind his ear, as if it were a pen, and grinds his teeth with rage or shame. Yet, if he now betakes himself to go through the preparations which ought to be made to enable observers to notice accurately the transit of Venus, and then the means by which they can approximately ascertain the mean distance of the sun from the earth, he will find at once a pleasant refuge from his trouble, and fall asleep whilst extracting a square root. Those young men, and others, who, like the old saints are said to have done, often suffer much from what may be called "presumptuous desires of the flesh," will find the acquisition of knowledge is a powerful agent in subduing the cravings of lust, and hard thinking curbs our passions far more effectually than the scourge of the ascetic, or the prayers of the hermit. Mental activity, although it does not entirely remove it, does much to repress inordinate desire, and we consequently prefer the teaching of the son of Maya to that of any son of Abraham.

Of the estimate of a well-regulated mind we have the following:—

42. "Whatever a hater may do to a hater, or an enemy to an enemy, a wrongly-directed mind will do us greater mischief."

43. "Not a mother, not a father, nor any other relative, will do so much that a well-directed mind will not do us greater service." To this we can find no parallel in the Hebrew scriptures.

Some of the following are equal to any of those proverbs attributed to Solomon:—

76. "If you see an intelligent man who tells you where true treasures are to be found, who shows you what is to be avoided, and who administers reproofs, follow that wise man: it will be better, not worse, for those who follow him."

78. "Do not have evildoers for friends, do not have low people; have virtuous people for friends, have for friends the best of men."

80. "Well-makers lead the water wherever they like, fletchers bend the arrow, carpenters bend a log of wood, wise people fashion themselves."

81. "As a solid rock is not shaken by the wind, wise people falter not amidst blame and praise."

94. "The gods even envy him whose senses have been subdued, like horses well broken in by the driver, who is free from pride and free from frailty."

97. "The man who is free from credulity, but knows the uncreated, who has cut all ties, removed all temptations renounced all desires, he is the greatest of men." A saying which is almost identical with "He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty, and he that ruleth his spirit better than he that taketh a city" (Prov. xvi. 32). Those Christians who believe in works of supererogation, and trust to stores of merit laid up by certain saints, who have lashed their bodies and otherwise injured themselves, may read the following opinion with profit:—

108. "Whatever a man sacrifices in this world as an offering or as an oblation for a whole year in order to gain merit, the whole of it is not worth a quarter; reverence shown to the righteous is better."

Respecting evil, we find the following:—

116. "If a man would hasten towards the good, he should keep his thought away from evil; if a man does what is good slothfully, his mind delights in evil."

117. "If a man commits a sin, let him not do it again, let him not delight in sin; pain is the outcome of evil."

118. "If a man does what is good let him do it again, let him delight in it; happiness is the outcome of good."

126. "Some people are born again; evil-doers go to Hell, righteous people go to Heaven; those who are free from all worldly desires enter Nirvana."

It is therefore clear that Jesus of Nazareth did not inaugurate the idea of a new birth.

In precept 133 we have another sentiment parallel with a passage in Proverbs: "Do not speak harshly to anybody; those who are spoken to will answer thee in the same way. Angry speech is painful blows, for blows will touch thee;" or, as our Bible has it, "A soft answer turneth away wrath, but grievous words stir up anger" (Prov. xv. 1).

The following is a reproach to a vast number of individuals who are called Christian preachers, and teach doctrines of brotherly love, but act as if religious hatred of dissenters of every class were a duty:—

159. "Let each man make himself as he teaches others to be; he who is well subdued may subdue others; one's own self is difficult to subdue."

166. "Let no one neglect his own duty for the sake of another's, however great: let a man, after he has discerned his own duty, be always attentive to his duty."

The following might have served as the original of the epistles of John:—

167. "Do not follow the evil law! Do not live on in thoughtlessness! Do not follow false doctrine! Be not a friend of the world."

168. 9. "Rouse thyself! do not be idle, follow the law of virtue—do not follow that of sin. The virtuous lives happily in this world and in the next."

170, 1, 2, 3, & 4. "Look upon the world as a bubble; the foolish are immersed in it, but the wise do not cling to it. He who formerly was reckless, and afterwards became sober, and he whose evil deeds are covered by good deeds, brighten up this world like the moon when freed from clouds."

174. "This world is dark—few only can be here; a few only go to heaven like birds escaped from the net." A statement repeated by Jesus in different words,—"Strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it" (Matt. vii. 14). There may likewise be a comparison instituted between the following:—

176. "If a man has transgressed one law, and speaks lies and scoffs at another world, there is no evil he will not do." "Whosoever shall keep the whole law, and yet offend in one point, he is guilty of all" (Jas. ii. 10).

I quote this and the next saying to corroborate the assertion that Buddha taught the existence of a future world:—

177. "The uncharitable do not go to the world of the gods; fools only do not praise liberality; a wise man rejoices in liberality, and through it becomes blessed in the other world."

Compare 1 Tim. vi. 17, 18,19, "Charge them that are rich in this world.... that they be—ready to distribute, willing to communicate, laying up in store for themselves a good foundation against the time to come, that they may lay hold on eternal life."

See again (306), "He who says what is not, goes to hell; he also who, having done a thing, says I have not done it. After death both are equal, they are men with evil deeds in the next world."

309. "Four things does a reckless man gain who covets his neighbour's wife—a bad reputation, an uncomfortable bed—thirdly, punishment, and, lastly, hell."

310. "There is bad reputation, and the evil way (to hell)."

311. "As a grass blade if badly grasped cuts the arm, badly practised asceticism leads to hell."

178. "Better than sovereignty over the earth, better than going to heaven, better than lordship over all worlds, is the reward of the first step in holiness."

"What is a man profited if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul?" or, "What shall a man give in exchange for his soul?" (Matt, xvi. 26).

It would be difficult to find any doctrine enunciated in the Bible more simple than the following:—

183. "Not to commit any sin, to do good, and to purify one's mind, that is the teaching of the Awakened."

184. "The Awakened call patience the highest penance, long-suffering the highest Nirvana, for he is not an anchorite who strikes others, he is not an ascetic who insults others."

185. "Not to blame, not to strike, to live restrained under the law, to be moderate in eating, to sleep and eat alone, and to dwell on the highest thoughts, this is the teaching of the Awakened."

Equally difficult would it be to find in the Old Testament such precepts as—

197. "Let us live happily, then, not hating those who hate us; let us dwell free from hatred among men who hate." "Let us live free from greed among men who are greedy."

200. "Let us live happily though we can call nothing our own."

204. "Health is the greatest of gifts, contentedness the best riches; trust is the best of relatives, Nirvana the highest happiness."

The following quotations deserve the close attention of the Christian inquirer, for they not only contain sentiments almost identically the same as those found in the New Testament, but they are couched in the same language, as closely as the circumstances of the case allow. Both enunciate the opinion that it is injudicious to cultivate or even to permit the existence of those affections which we have in common with the lower animals, and that to attain perfection love and hatred must be trampled under foot. We give the Buddhist teaching priority, as it was promulgated first:—

210. "Let no man ever look for what is pleasant or what is unpleasant. Not to see what is pleasant is pain, and it is pain to see what is unpleasant."

211. "Let, therefore, no man love anything; loss of the beloved is evil. Those who love nothing and hate nothing have no fetters."

212. "From pleasure comes grief, from pleasure comes fear, he who is free from pleasure knows neither grief nor fear."

213-6. "From affection comes grief and fear, from lust comes grief and fear, from love comes grief and fear, from greed comes grief and fear." "He who is free from affection, lust, love, and greed, knows neither grief nor fear." "He that loveth either father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and he that loveth son or daughter better than me is not worthy of me, and he that taketh not his cross and followeth after me is not worthy of me. He that findeth his life shall lose it, and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it" (Matt. x. 37-39). "Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world. And the world passeth away and the lust thereof, but he that doeth the will of God abideth for ever" (1 John ii. 15-17).

"Then said Jesus unto his disciples, If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross and follow me. For whosoever will save his life shall lose it, and whosoever will lose his life for my sake shall find it; for what is a man profited if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?" (Matt, xvi. 24). See also Mark viii. 34, x. 21, and Luke ix. 23-25, in the last verse of which the saying is varied by the words being used "what is a man advantaged if he gain the whole world and lose himself, or be cast away?" We are by habit more familiar with the style in which the Grecians wrote, than with that adopted by Sanscrit authors. But in both sets of writers the main idea is made strikingly apparent—viz., that to love anybody or anything on earth is prejudicial to our spiritual welfare, and that to act piously, it is necessary for the saint to free himself wholly from those instinctive affections which God has implanted in almost every one of his creatures. It is strange that any two ministers could have excogitated so monstrous a proposition, and that both should be called "Divine."

The effect of the teaching of Buddha and of Jesus was to draw many from their hearth whose duty, in our estimation, was clearly to remain at home, and endeavour to cherish and support their family. I enter my strong protest as an Englishman, as well as individual Christian, against the idea that a man who believes himself a disciple of the son of Mary must go abroad to teach and preach, or become an ascetic, a hermit, or a monk, and leave his wife and children to be cared for by his friends or the parish. I believe most strongly that our affections are implanted in us by our Maker, just as a mother's love exists alike in the tigress and the eagle, and that any religion which teaches us that we must overcome these propensities, is a false one. It is strange, to say the least of it, that both the son of Maya and of Mary should have promulgated such a doctrine—i.e., that religion is designed to make our pleasures less, and our miseries greater. It is perhaps too much to assert that no other form of faith, besides those which have sprung from Buddha and from Jesus, possesses such a tenet as that to which we refer; but we can safely affirm that we do not know of any in which the natural affections existing between parents and children, husband and wife, brothers and sisters, have not been cultivated as a portion of the duties to be fulfilled by the faithful.

It is scarcely necessary to call attention to the resemblance which the doctrine in question bears to that which was promulgated by the Grecian "Stoics"; and the similitude is still farther increased by such a sentence as the following in the Dhammapada:—

221. "Let a man leave anger, let him forsake pride, let him overcome all bondage! No sufferings befall the man who is not attached to either body or soul, and who calls nothing his own."

Once more we see a close resemblance between Buddhism and the Bible in

223. "Let a man overcome anger by love, let him overcome evil by good, let him overcome the greedy by liberality, the liar by truth." "If thine enemy be hungry give him bread to eat, and if he be thirsty give him water to drink," (Prov. xxv. 21). But the motive for this recommendation to the Jews is a vindictive one, for he is told that by so doing he will heap coals of fire upon his enemy's head, whilst the Lord will take care to reward the deed to the doer. In the epistle to the Romans this saying of the Proverbs is endorsed, and to it is added "Be not overcome with evil, but overcome evil with good" (Rom. xii. 20, 21).

224. "Speak the truth, do not yield to anger; give, if thou art asked, from the little thou hast—by those steps thou wilt go near the gods." "Let not mercy and truth forsake thee, bind them about thy neck; write them upon the table of thine heart; so shalt thou find favour and good understanding in the sight of God and man" (Prov. iii. 3-4); "Wherefore, putting away lying, let every man speak the truth with his neighbour" (Eph. iv. 25). We scarcely can find, in the Old Testament, a strict parallel with the Buddhist precept, "do not yield to anger," for the Jewish scriptures, without exception, depict their God as giving way habitually to wrath, anger, and revenge—e.g., in Ps. vii. 11, we find it stated that Elohim is angry with the wicked every day. Again, in Isaiah v. 25, we read, "for all this, God's anger is not turned away, but his hand is stretched out still;" Job iv. 9, By God's anger they are consumed; "To pour out upon them my fierce anger," (Zeph. iii. 8). There are, however, a few passages which inculcate upon men the propriety of a command over their temper. In Ps. xxxvii. 8, for example, we read, "Cease from anger, and forsake wrath," and in Proverbs xxvii. 4, "Wrath is cruel, and anger is outrageous," whilst "the Preacher" says, Eccles. vii. 9, "Anger resteth in the bosom of fools," and in xi. 10, "remove anger or sorrow from thy heart." In the Gospel we have a somewhat divided teaching. For example, we find, from Mark iii. 5, that Jesus himself indulged in anger, when he was vexed at what he thought the hardness of his hearers' hearts; and from his saying, in Matt. v. 22, "Whosoever is angry with his brother without a cause, shall be in danger of the judgment," it is clear that the son of Mary approved of anger which had a cause. Again, we find, in Eph. iv. 26, "Be ye angry and sin not, let not the sun go down upon your wrath," as if anger were not a culpable weakness, or passion, if only indulged in during the daylight. Yet, in the thirty-first verse of the same chapter we read, "Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger.... be put away from you," and in Col. iii. 8, the putting away of anger is spoken of as an evidence of being regenerated.

Of the duty of almsgiving we find much in the Bible, but we will content ourselves with the following passages:—"Charge them who are rich in this world that they be ready to give, and glad to distribute, laying up in store for themselves a good foundation against the time to come, that they may attain eternal life" (1 Tim. vi. 17-19). Quoted from the Communion Service in the Prayer-book—"To do good, and to distribute, forget not; for with such sacrifices God is well pleased." "Be merciful after thy power. If thou hast much, give plenteously; if thou hast little, do thy diligence gladly to give of that little, for so gatherest thou thyself a good reward in the day of necessity" (Prayer-book version of certain precepts in Tobit, chap. iv. 8, 9). If our readers will take the trouble to consult the entire chapter in Tobit, they will readily conceive that it was written by a Buddhist sage, instead of an ordinary Jew.

Once more we turn to the Dhammapada, and find—

231, 234. "Beware of bodily anger, and control thy body. Leave the sins of the body, and with thy body practise virtue; control thy tongue; leave the sins of the tongue, and practise virtue with thy tongue; leave the sins of the mind, and practise virtue with thy mind."

This reference to the sins of the tongue, and the necessity for its control, recals to our mind the opinion expressed in the epistle of James, "If any one bridleth not his tongue, this man's religion is vain" (chap, i. 26); "The tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity," &c.; "the tongue can no man tame," &c. (chap. iii. w. 5-10); and the verse, "I said, I will take heed io my ways, that I sin not with my tongue; I will keep my mouth with a bridle while the wicked is before me" (Ps. xxxix. 1).

The next maxim to which I would direct attention is one which should be pondered deeply by all those who desire to become thoroughly civilized. So far as I know, its like cannot be found in any part of the Bible. It runs thus—

243. "There is a taint worse than all taints, ignorance is the greatest taint."

If we search our own scriptures for a parallel passage, we can only find that ignorance is inculcated, and with the express intention of preventing the mind from departing from the old into some new track—see, for example, Dent. xii. 30, where the Jews are enjoined not to inquire after the gods of other nations, lest they should adopt them: again, in Deut. iv. 19, the Hebrews are enjoined not to study or gain any information respecting the sun, moon, and stars, lest they should worship them. But Paul, the apostle of the Gentiles, is even a more conspicuous advocate of ignorance, when he asserts that God hath chosen the foolish things [—Greek—] of the world to confound the wise (1 Cor. i. vv. 19-28). "O Timothy, keep that which is committed to thy trust, avoiding.... oppositions of science falsely so called, which some professing have erred concerning the faith" (1 Tim. vi. 20, 21). Many, indeed, who call themselves civilized Christians, aver that, where ignorance is bliss 'tis folly to be wise, a tenet held strongly by Mahometans, Papists, and Ritualists.

That the dictum of Paul in the text last quoted has had a a most disastrous effect upon civilization, no one who is conversant with history can fairly deny. Neither can it be shown that any known religion, except Buddhism, has opposed itself to ignorance. In every nation the rulers in general, and the priesthood in particular, have, on the other hand, encouraged indolence of mind, lest the people should learn wisdom and shake off their thraldom. We have seen, in our own times, hierarchs of every denomination oppose the spread of science, not falsely so called, with the avowed intention of endeavouring to bolster up doctrines, dogmas, and assertions, which they feel sure true science will destroy, although the same people declare their tenets indestructible, and founded on truth. Nay, we may go still further, and assert that sciolism in religious matters is fostered by the clergy of all denominations, both by the suppression of what they believe to be genuine, and by the promulgation of what they know to be false. In the place of knowledge they inculcate blind faith.

As one not wholly unknown to be an earnest and honest inquirer, I have had extensive correspondence and personal intercourse with many preachers, and with others whose opportunities for learning "the clerical mind" are more extensive than my own, and I may divide the body of religious ministers, and the laity as well, into the following classes:—1, Those who refuse to inquire, examine, and think about religious subjects, except in a certain prescribed way; 2, Those who will investigate into the grounds of their belief, as they would into any doubtful assertion, or into any science; 3, Those who individually abandon the old faith and yet continue to preach it, and profess to adhere to it as strongly as they did at first; 4, Those who venture timidly to insinuate doubts into the minds of others, whilst professing to be orthodox themselves; 5, Those who are too noble to be hypocrites, and boldly affirm that which their advance of knowledge has induced them to adopt as a belief. Yet these very men, distinguished above their fellows for earnestness, for science, for honesty of purpose, a religiously ignorant priesthood persecutes; and Englishmen, who wish to be regarded as peculiarly "enlightened," stand by almost unmoved, or, as happens too frequently, applauding.

When we endeavour to ascertain the reason why ignorance is so greatly cherished amongst mankind, we can readily discover it in indolence on the part of one group of men, and cupidity on the part of others. There are many positions in life wherein Sciolism seems to be more profitable than knowledge. We may mention a few. A "solicitor" who has an imperfect acquaintance with the law, may induce his clients to bring cases before various legal courts, in which they are certain to lose their cause and money, but this solicitor gains large fees for his trouble. A physician who does not know how to cure certain diseases may yet treat them for months, pass for a devoted doctor and a clever friend, and receive a large honorarium, which is far beyond his merit, though the patient may think it far too small. The man, on the other hand, who can cure such complaints readily, has to be content with a very slender fee, as his attendance is only required for a few days. The schemers, who live upon the ignorance of dupes, bear the name of legion. We see one of the body as a promoter of all sorts of bubble companies, and as secretary to such societies as banks, trade unions, burial clubs, assurances, &c. Anon he takes the form of an adulterator of provisions, of various drinkables, of cloth, silk, linen, &c. If Sciolism were not common, such charlatans as "spiritualists," "clairvoyants," "mesmerists," and the like, could not thrive as they do, nor quacks of all kinds flourish famously. One medical pretender is indeed reported to have said to a "regular" doctor, who lived in the same street with him, but whose clients were few compared with those of the charlatan—"the reason why you have so small, and I have so large, a number of patients is, that the fools come to me, the knowing ones to you."

What is true in the case of other professions is preeminently so in the clerical In religion, such as it is professed in Christendom, Sciolism, or imperfect knowledge, alone is lucrative. Real understanding, diffused amongst the people, would render every hierophant a beggar, and thorough enlightenment amongst the priesthood would force them to allow that such should be their normal position. For example, if every layman, in countries owning the spiritual headship of the Pope of Rome, knew that all the stories of Heaven, Purgatory, Hell, Angels, Saints, Confessors, Hermits, and the like, were absolutely baseless—if he knew that man has no power in the court of the Almighty to influence His will in favour of a congener, and that nothing whatever is known respecting the world beyond the grave—he would not order masses, whether high or low, and a host of other ceremonies, each of which has to be paid for. Or, if each Protestant knew, that every tenet preached to him from the pulpit is founded upon absolute ignorance of the Almighty's operations, that every doctrine, every prayer, and every ritual, is based upon fantastic, half savage, or semicivilized human ideas, he would recognize at once the total uselessness of the parson. "They that are whole need not the physician, but they that are sick." The doctor, knowing this, endeavours, when he has a chance, to induce a client to believe himself ill, and that he and no other man can cure him—or, if he should really be disordered, these ideas will be kept up as long as possible. So it is in "religion," it is only the culprit that wants the Saviour, but when he has a chance, the soi disant saviour tries to persuade those who consult him, that they are sinners, yet that he can make them saints; and having once implanted this belief, he endeavours to sustain it. To doctors and priests such as we here describe, the ignorant credulity of their clients is a source of wealth. So long as there are dupes there will be sharpers, and so long as men are human, there will be, unconsciously very likely to themselves, abundance of both fools and knaves.

From what has been already said, our readers will have probably drawn the conclusion that we deny the existence of a thoroughly educated and honest hierarch, who has become wealthy by the exercise of his profession in a perfectly conscientious manner. Exceptional circumstances prevent us saying exactly the same of a doctor, but into these we need not enter, as they have not their counterparts in divinity. Such being our belief, we recognize the fact that poverty and knowledge must, in an earnest priesthood, be ever associated. But the clergy of every denomination are loath to agree to this, and endeavour, by hook or by crook, to acquire the means of living well.

Hence Buddha, who was thoroughly honest himself, and did not become a preacher for the sake of emolument or a livelihood, adopted, as part of his plan, a systematic estrangement from every luxury of whatever sort,—or, in other words, the adoption of a poverty as great as exists in the lower animals. He enjoined that the saintly teacher, having food and raiment of the most homely kind, ought therewith to be content. This was Paul's view also—see 1 Tim. vi. 8. In this teaching the son of Mary concurred; like the son of Maya, he "had not where to lay his head," he had not even such a home as a fox or a bird (Matt, viii. 20), and when he sent out his disciples to preach, his direction to them was, "Take nothing for your journey" (Luke ix. 3, see also Matt, vi. 25-28). To sum up our remarks upon this particular command of Buddha to avoid the taint of ignorance, we may frame an axiom in political economy, thus—"Ignorance in the many ensures wealth in a few," or, "A diffusion of sound knowledge amongst the ruled, reduces the power and the emoluments of the rulers, and compels them to work hard if they wish to retain their position." To apply this idea still further, I would add that a thoroughly educated people, each one of whom feels that he must "work out his own salvation" (Phil ii. 12), does not require a priesthood. Consequently hierarchs, whose sole business in this world seems to be to instil terror into young minds, and to make rules for them to break, that priests may be paid for showing how the imaginary results may be escaped, would have no place if men were wise and thoughtful. It is a curious, though a certain fact, that the depth of savagery and the height of civilization alike ignore the necessity of a hierarchy. The first does so because it never thinks of God—the second, because its conceptions of the Almighty are such that it cannot believe Him to be influenced by individuals who assume to be His earthly vicegerents, or are elected to that pretentious situation by their fellow-men. The God of the Bible can only be adored by individuals whose minds are not emancipated wholly from the thraldom of barbarism, and who regard Jehovah as a man, and not a good one either, or, as we have before remarked—a devil. We may once more extract some sentences for comparison, to show, either that no inspiration was necessary to pen the Bible, or that the Dhammapada has equal claims with the Old Testament—

244. "Life is easy to live for a man who is without shame, a crow hero, a mischief maker, an insulting, bold, and wretched fellow. But life is hard to live for a modest man, who always looks for what is pure, who is disinterested, quiet, spotless, and intelligent. O man, know this, that the unrestrained are in a bad state; take care that greediness and vice do not bring thee to grief for a long time."

Compare this with the Psalmist's expression—"I was envious at the foolish when I saw the prosperity of the wicked, for there are no bands in their death, but their strength is firm; they are not in trouble as other men, neither are they plagued like other men; therefore pride compasseth them about as a chain, violence covereth them as a garment, their eyes stand out with fatness, they have more than heart could wish.... these are the ungodly who prosper in the world, they increase in riches.... Surely thou didst set them in slippery places: thou castedst them down into destruction. How are they brought into desolation, as in a moment! they are utterly consumed with terrors" (Ps. lxxiii. 3-19.) "I have seen the wicked in great power, and spreading himself like a green tree that groweth in his own soil, yet he passed away, and lo! he was not, yea, I sought him, but he could not be found. Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright, for the end of that man is peace. But the transgressors shall be destroyed together, the end of the wicked shall be cut off." "Fret not thyself because of evil-doers, neither be thou envious against the workers of iniquity, for they shall soon be cut down like the grass, and wither as the green herb. Trust in the Lord and do good, so shalt thou dwell in the land, and, verily, thou shalt be fed" (Ps. xxxvii. 35-38—1-3). The class of sentiments is the same in both, only they seem to differ because we are very familiar with the phraseology of the Bible, and the reverse with translations from the Sanskrit.

At this point the philosopher may judiciously pause to inquire, whether the sentiments expressed in the preceding biblical quotations are not incorrect, and consequently whether they can be regarded as inspired; and whether the Buddhistic solution of the difficulty, which points to a future state, is not superior to the Jewish one which treats of this world only. Experience abundantly shows that individuals practising what is called "goodness" find it no safeguard against misery, starvation, tortures, and death. Jesus of Nazareth, his disciples, and vast numbers of his followers, have experienced from the dominant party in those states wherein they dwelled contumely, reproach, and hours of lingering torment. Louis the XIV. of France, and the New Englanders of America, alike persecuted "Protestants" and "Quakers." In Spain "the reformers" were successfully opposed by fire and sword, and Papal Italy once extirpated from her midst the disciples of Luther and Calvin. Yet the so-called wrong-doers flourished, and the unfortunate "good people" were run down or dragooned with a sudden and swift destruction. If the dictum of the Psalmist is right, then Admiral Coligny, who was killed in the Bartholomew massacre, at Paris, must have been a bad man put in a slippery place that he might fall, for his destruction came suddenly, in an instant. But all history shows him to have been a worthy fellow, who was punished for his virtues. The observer of nature is driven to believe that the co-existence of powerful and bad men, with feeble, yet good men, is a rule in creation for which no adequate explanation can be found. He sees that in the domain of the air there are hawks and pigeons, eagles and ostriches, cuckoos and hedge-sparrows, that on the land there are tigers and sheep, lions and buffaloes, wolves and deer, that in the water there are perch and minnows, pike and trout, sharks and whales—in other words, there is throughout the world a division of living creatures into those who live by destroying vegetables, and those who subsist by the destruction of animals. The cow, sheep, and deer are quite as ruthless, in their noxiousness to the ornaments of the meadow, as are foxes in a hen-roost to the beauties of the barn-door; both alike mar the graceful features of creation. Yet it is clear that both the graminivora and the carnivora were made to effect this apparent wrong. Still further, we see throughout creation, that in almost every community of animals, the strong ones dominate over the weak, and endeavour, far too frequently, to deprive them of such pleasures as they and their females possess. See, for example, a cock with a bevy of hens: he will allow no other chanticleer to strut besides him on the dunghill of the yard; he will not permit a rival to make love to anyone of his harem, nor to feed upon any dainty morsel, until his wives and himself have had enough. The same may be said of stags, of bulls, of rams, of horses, and many other creatures whose habits are known. The leader of a herd is a despot, and when he is at length conquered by another, those who are ruled have merely changed their masters. Young and weak cocks will never attain to power, and must ever submit to be bullied.

We notice, at the same time, that each tyrant must in the end succumb; with age comes infirmity and loss of strength, in the last battle the old is beaten by the young. Just so it is with mankind; in its comparative infancy monarchs rule, and are at length deposed by others. The Babylonians conquered Palestine, the Medes and Persians vanquished the Babylonians, the Greeks subjugated the Persians, the Romans overcame the Greeks, and the Goths destroyed the Roman power; yet under every regime the powerful could torment the weak. The result in every case was brought about by the conqueror being strong and brutal—not by the immorality of the victims.

When a philosopher sees such things, he very naturally endeavours to ascertain whether any design can be discovered in the events of the world, and to this end he may be diligent in collecting facts, or he may at once frame some theory, and then cease to think about the matter. "Oh," such an one may say, "all that is wrong here will be righted in another world." Another, who ponders more deeply, may doubt whether it is proper to divide the phenomena of nature into "right" and "wrong." "If," he will say, "I believe with the Jew that God is in the heavens, and does whatsoever He pleases" (Ps. cxv. 3), or that "the Lord hath made all for Himself; yea, even the wicked for the day of evil" (Prov. xvi. 4) I must allow that everything which emanates from the Creator must be right. Speaking individually, I prefer rather to examine into the ways of Providence—i.e., of the Almighty, without framing any theory of right and wrong, than to dogmatize upon what He must intend by this or that. "Who hath directed the Spirit of the Lord (Jehovah), or being his counsellor hath taught him?" (Is. xl. 13)—see also the Pauline version of this sentiment, Rom. xi. 33, 34.

It is very questionable whether any human analogy will enable us, even approximately, to fathom what are designated "the designs of Providence." Every example that I can at the present remember given by theologians is bad. Take, for example, the most common one which draws a comparison between God and a father, Ps. ciii. 13, "like as a father piti-eth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him;" Prov. iii. 12, "Whom the Lord loveth he correcteth, even as a father the son in whom he delighteth;" Heb. xii. 6, 7, "Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth." "If ye be without chastisement, whereof all men (are) partakers, then are ye bastards and not sons." These enunciate the idea that God, being the universal father, treats mankind as a judicious parent treats his offspring, and that as a child cannot at all times know why he is punished until many years have passed over his head, so human beings cannot tell, until they reach another world, why they were punished in this. To assist this assertion the text is quoted "What I do thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter" (John xiii. 7.) If there be any truth in the analogy, it must follow that all who in this world "endure grief, suffering wrongfully" (1 Pet. ii. 19), are children of God, whom he is educating for a better world. If that, again, be so, then—when Christians persecuted Mahometans, Romanists burned Protestants, and Spaniards slaughtered Mexicans and Peruvians—it follows that the vanquished, and not the conquerors, were the elect of the Father. But this deduction directly opposes those promises said to be made to the Jews by Jehovah, viz., that victory should be the reward of their piety. As it is a poor system which declares that two opposite results come from the same cause, we must refuse to believe that both victory and defeat are proofs of a Father's love. I am quite aware that some reader may retort that a kind parent may punish one child at the same time that he rewards another. I grant it at once, but that only demonstrates, if it proves anything, that all creatures must be regarded alike as the offspring of the Creator, and that none are favoured peculiarly on the one hand, or are outcasts on the other.

As it is undesirable to mix political up with religious events, I refrain from drawing from history such illustrations as have frequently been supposed to indicate the will of the Almighty. The fall from power of Egypt, Tyre, Assyria, Babylonia, Persia, Greece, Carthage, Rome, Spain, are all supposed to have been caused by some special providential design. In like manner theologians draw certain deductions from the discovery of the New World, and the slaughter of the majority of its aboriginal inhabitants; from the Crusades; from the influx of the Turks into Christendom; and of the Moors into Spain. Some, whose imaginative powers overwhelm their reasoning faculties, see in the wars of recent times that final shaking of the nations, which some soi-disant prophet declares must precede the millennium, and the battle of Armageddon; vaccinators, and interpreters are as abundant and irrepressible now as ever they were. Their fundamental assumption is that God has acted as they would have done in His place. Now He is a sort of Irish landlord, a portion of whose property is overrun with pauper farmers, and He clears them away to make room for more sensible and wealthier tenants, as the Canaanites were removed to give place to the Hebrews. Now, He is represented as a parent, who hearing that a son has engaged in fight and been conquered, merely remarks "serves him right!"—the kind of comfort given to the Jews after they had been harried by the Edomite confederacy, and subsequently by the Chaldeans. Again, the same mighty Jehovah is represented as a Stoic, who remarks, when some mischance happens to those who are said to be his children, "Never mind, accidents will happen—through much tribulation you must enter into my rest, or the kingdom of heaven."

I entirely decline to adopt the profession of prophet and interpreter, contenting myself with increasing what knowledge I may have, rather than endeavouring to deduce from it theories whose weakness an hour may demonstrate; nor do I put faith in any one who adopts such a business.

For example, let us assume that two savage tribes, having gods of different names and shapes, go to war on the bidding of their priests—one is conquered and the other is victorious. The one attributes his reverse to the anger of his own deity, not to the power of the god of his enemy. The other imagines that he owes success to the influence of his protector and his superiority over his foe's fetish. A civilized on-looker, who believes that all the deities are devils and powerless, attributes victory and defeat to perfectly natural causes, e.g., superiority in weapons, tactics, numbers, or strength. It is clear that neither the deductions of the first nor second men are right; neither has read the mind of his fetish. So it is with the half educated theologians of our own day, who think and talk as glibly of God and Satan, as if they were personal acquaintances, who make no secret either of their deeds or their motives of action.

Once more we return to the Dhammapada and find,

248. "O, man, know this, that the unrestrained are in a bad state; take care that greediness and vice do not bring thee to grief for a long time." We do not here seek to find any parallel passage in the bible, but we turn to history, remote and collateral, and compare the priesthood of Buddha with that of Jesus. Does travel tell us of any set of teachers more self-denying than the individuals who devote themselves as religious Buddhists? Can history, on the other hand, tell us of any hierarchy more greedy and vicious than the Christian priesthood in the middle ages, and down to a comparatively recent period? We will not accuse them of vice, but even now is there in the whole world a more grasping set of men than those who have received what they term "holy orders" from the descendants of Jesus or of Peter? I trow not. If, therefore, a doctrine is to be known by its fruits, in one respect at least Buddhism is superior to that which we call Christianity, by which term I do not mean the exceptional practice of a few, but the general habits of the majority of the bishops, priests, &c., of Christendom. Once more let us contrast the doctrine of Buddha with the practice of Christians. He says—

Da. 256, 7. "A man is not a just judge if he carries a matter by violence; no, he who distinguishes both right and wrong, who is learned, and leads others, not by violence, but by law and equity, he who is a guardian of the law and equity, he who is a guardian of the law, and intelligent, he is called just." Our histories tell us of Christians persecuting Christians; Trinitarians endeavouring to extirpate Arians; Franciscans torturing Dominicans; of Jews slaughtered by those whose master said, "Father, forgive them;" we see brutal Spaniards exterminating, under the shadow of the cross, whole nations in the new world who had never harmed them, and in the old world we find Crusaders, under the guise of piety, murdering and robbing the dwellers in Palestine. There is scarcely a large town in Europe which has not witnessed the ferocious violence of Papal, yea, and Protestant, hierarchs. Even in recent times we have seen bishops and their congeners, in our so-called civilized nation, oppose violence, and the popgun thunder of excommunication, to a learned prelate, and to an humble priest. Judged by the standard of Buddha, our divines are unjust and unrighteous. I cannot discover any standard by which they can be regarded as "praiseworthy," except that embodied in the two sayings, "Get what you can, and what you get hold;" "Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise." We may say of such persecutors, in the words of the Dhammapada—

260. "A man is not an elder because his head is grey; his age may be ripe, but he is called old in vain," and many would at once be able, if they tried, to remember the names of some who, in a Christian community, have abandoned their principles, or their learning, as soon as they became bishops or elders of the church. I have no doubt Popes have done so. There is a saying, that however clever a man is, you make a fool of him by placing a mitre upon his head.

The following is, perhaps, more curious than our previous quotations, as it tells of the pre-Christian antiquity of a common Romish custom:—

264. "Not by tonsure does an undisciplined man, who speaks falsehood, become a Sramana; can a man be a Sra-mana who is still held captive by desire and greediness?" The Sramana is a word equivalent to our "priest," literally, "a man who performs hard penances" (see Dhammapada, Note 265, p. cxxxii.).

Without copying any other texts from the Dhammapada, we may next inquire what there is to be found in the Bible that is not to be found in the teaching of Buddha. We notice that the element of so-called prophecy is wholly wanting in the sayings of the Indian sage. I cannot remember that either Sakya Muni or any of his followers assumed the power to foretell the future. There is, it is true, a vague threat of future misery to the wicked, which was founded upon the prevalent idea of metempsychosis; but there is no endeavour to pourtray the occurrences that are supposed to be impending over one or more sections of the human race. There is not any attempt to induce individuals to join themselves to the son of Maya, by declarations that the world, and all that it contains, is about to be destroyed, and that all who do not become disciples of the teacher, and shelter themselves under his mantle, will be miserably punished throughout eternity.

There is not any Buddhist description in detail, either of Hell, or Heaven, or Nirvana; there is no story of "worms," "fires," "devils," "death," and the like, in the first. The second is not depicted, by the preacher himself, as a sort of palace, made gorgeous with gold and precious stones, resounding in barbaric music, and discordant chants, where animals dwell, and where horses are kept stabled, to go throughout the world with messengers upon their backs (see Zechariah i. 8, 10; vi. 2, 7; Rev. iv. 6, 7; vi. 2, 4, 8). There are no denunciations of vengeance upon heretics, nor is the god of Buddha like the one described by Hebrew writers, who "winks" during times of ignorance upon earth (Acts xvii. 30), who requires to be reminded by prayer of the wants of men (Exod. iii. 7), and who comes down to earth to inquire if matters are according to the accounts which have reached his dwelling-place (Gen. xviii. 21).

In Siddartha's teaching there is, as we have seen, an absence of the element of prayer. According to his view, each man is regarded, to a certain extent, as the author of his own destiny. Man, in his opinion, must ever be influenced by the actions of other men—he may, for example either be caressed or tormented, yet, under both circumstances, he is instructed to retain equanimity of mind. He is not to pray for prosperity, nor to supplicate that trials may be removed. He is to face and overcome every trial by his resolute will, and not to waste time in praying not to be led into temptation.

Again, in Buddha's writings, and in those of his followers, there is an absence of those obscene tales with which the Old Testament abounds. We seek in vain for counterparts of the story of Lot and his daughters, of Onan, of Joseph and the wife of Potiphar, of Judah and Tamar, David and Bathsheba, Amnon and his sister, Zimri Cozbi and Phinehas, and the like. It is true, that in some Buddhist writings, there is a cosmogony introduced more preposterous than that in the Bible; but there are no parallels to the tales of Noah, of Moses, and of Israel in Egypt, the desert, and Palestine. Indeed, when we remember that Sakya Muni was an Oriental, accustomed to inflated language, we are struck by the plainness of his speech.

If we now ask ourselves, as earnest practical Christians—that is, as men, anxious and eager to attain to religious truth, and desirous of teaching only those things which would tend towards sound edification and to a pure morality—what parts of the Bible most offend sense of propriety, we should answer, that they are its untenable cosmogony; its preposterous accounts of the longevity of the men reported as being the earliest formed; the legend of the flood; the origin of the rainbow; the tales of Moses, Pharaoh, the plagues of Egypt, the sojourn in the desert, the capture of Canaan, the miraculous battles, in which each man of Israel put a thousand enemies to flight. We would wholly expunge the fabulous account of Elijah and Elisha; the ravings after vengeance uttered by the prophets; the apocryphal episodes described in the books of Jonah and Daniel, every obscene story, and disgusting speech and writing, whether uttered as a threat against Israel or his enemies. In like manner we would wish to expunge, from the teaching of Jesus, everything relating to the immediate destruction of the world—everything connected with community of goods, the advantages of beggary, and the potency of faith and prayer. We would suppress every miracle, and say nothing of a resurrection of the dead Jesus. We would equally abandon any attempt to describe Heaven or Hell, or any intermediate state.

When all these were removed from the Bible, we positively should have very little left, except a certain amount of morality which is sound, and a large portion which is radically bad. To make such an emendated book as perfect as possible, we might, with great advantage, correct it from the teaching of Buddha or from the sayings of Socrates, Plato, Epic-tetus, and even of Confucius; and when all was completed, it would be found that all men, everywhere, have had instinctive notions, more or less definite, of morality, but have allowed their animal passions to overcome their better feelings. Far too many of us know the good, but yet the bad pursue.

This investigation would most distinctly disprove the assertion, that God has selected a very small percentage of His creatures for objects of His care, and those who have charity towards all men would greatly rejoice thereat. Individually we cannot bear to eat, however hungry we may be, whilst we see others near us without food—our pleasure is heightened when we divide our luxuries with others; just so we believe it should be in religion—none should rejoice at the idea that he is one of the few that are to be saved, nor should anyone repine, as Jonah did, when he finds that the tender mercies of God are over all his works.

To simplify the matter as far as possible, I have drawn up the following parallel between Buddhism and Christianity:—

In the next chapter I propose to examine, as far as authorities will permit, the religion of the Persians—a nation intervening, to a great degree, between the old Aryan and the Shemitic races.

## CHAPTER VII.

The Medo-Persians and Parsees. Artfulness of theologians. They systematically break the ninth commandment. Frauds in orthodoxy. A man may use false weights innocently, but is punished, nevertheless. In theology ignorance does not justify deceit. Case in trade. Professional blindness. A law for punishing adulteration of truth is wanted. Mosaism and Zoroaster. Parsees and Christians. Moses and Zoroaster. The ancient magi. The Persians. Conflicting ideas of God in Bible. The source of the Biblical theology. Cyrus. Inquiry into the authenticity of the Avesta. The book condemned. Account of the Medo-Persian faith from Herodotus. Period of introduction of the Devil to the Bible. Summary. Comparison and contrast. Introduction to next chapter.

In every ancient, and, indeed, in every modern, faith which I have yet examined, I have been shocked with the manner in which it has been represented by interested opponents. Whether they are Romanists or Protestants, Evangelicals or Ritualists, Orthodox or Non-conformists, all our divines endeavour to prove their own tenets to be the best, by blazoning everything which is good, and veiling from sight everything which is doubtful. This being so, it is not at all surprising that Christians generally should try to exalt the religion professed by themselves over that propounded by others, whom they designate "heathens." But though it is not strange that very human partisans should act thus, it is marvellous to find that all the ardent disciples of Jesus, without an exception, that I know of, should, in their dealings with mankind, systematically break the ninth of those commandments which they assert were given by God to man, upon Mount Sinai All of them bear false witness against their neighbour, and give incorrect accounts of themselves in addition. They resemble, indeed, those Dutch merchants whom Washington Irving describes, so pleasantly, in his history of New York, who had two sets of weights, a heavy lot by which to purchase, and a light set by which to sell Such traders we call "fraudulent;" and I assert that every so-called orthodox polemic whose books I have read deserves the same epithet. Their fraud is shown by the misrepresentations that they make, both of the creed which they uphold and the one which they oppose. The heterodox and the so-called atheist may be trusted, at least, to tell the truth.

In saying this, I do not assert that everyone gives false witness knowingly, any more than I would blame a tradesman for using false scales, or weights, if he could demonstrate that he had purchased them as true, and could show that he had never tampered with them. Yet the law would punish such a man for their use, arguing that he ought to have made inquiry. In one of the large towns of Great Britain, on one occasion, a merchant, believed to be both religious and honest, sold to a broker a cargo of stuff which had no existence, and, when the delivery had to be made, the first destroyed himself, and the second was adjudged to be a culpable bankrupt, because he had taken the existence of the oil for granted, without investigation. Just so it is with ordinary divines; they assume certain statements in their own religious book to be true—they are taught to shut their eyes to the absurdities in the same volume, and to explain away, in one manner or another, everything which militates against common sense. By this plan they contrive to sell, as sterling stuff, something which is made of base material, without knowingly being parties to a fraud. In the same way a shopman may, on the word of the manufacturer, dispose of a piece of goods as wholly silk, although he has a shrewd presumption that the fabric contains a large proportion of cotton. For such individuals we have the proverb, "there are none so blind as those who will not see." But these very theologians of whom we are speaking, when they are dealing with the sacred books, ordinary customs, ritual, and the like, of other people, having a different religion to their own, are exact, in the extreme—every absurdity is exhibited ruthlessly; every legend is ridiculed; every discrepancy is magnified; and everything which betrays ignorance, or want of scientific knowledge, is paraded with inglorious ceremony. On the other hand, everything good which is to be found therein is, if possible, suppressed. A book, which was, for a long time, a standard one amongst our divines, entitled, Christ and Many Masters, is particularly open to this charge. In it there is throughout a suppressio veri, a suggestio falsi, and scarcely a page that does not bear false witness. If there were a law to punish those who adulterate or falsify "truth," our magistrates would be kept extremely busy.

As an inquiry into the realities of Buddhism has led us to the belief that the origin of Christianity may be found in the doctrines of the son of Maya, which were adopted with certain Judaic modifications by the sons of Elizabeth and Mary—so it is highly probable that what is called Mosaism has been built upon the teachings of the Persian or Median theology, said to have been founded by Zoroaster. Perhaps it would be difficult to find any modern evidence of the likelihood of this hypothesis more powerful than the fact that at the present day the Jews and the Parsees fraternize almost like brothers. The latter in England, and, I understand, elsewhere, select, when they can, the house of a Hebrew wherein to lodge, rather than that of any man of another nation. To this testimony, such as it is, we must add another which is very telling, viz., that almost every modern orthodox writer who has treated of Zoroaster, has declared that the prophet of Persia drew his inspiration from the lawgiver of Israel The priority of the latter being asserted, and the second place having been given to the former, the matter was supposed to be proved, and the Persian, after having been regarded as a copy of the Hebrew, was consigned to oblivion.

There can be little doubt, however, that the teachings of Zoroaster had more life in them than those either of the Jew or the Christian, for the Parsee always and even to the present day, and in every position of life, may lay claim to the title of nature's gentleman, which very few of the disciples of Jesus or of Moses could pretend to until very recently. The morality of these religionists is excellent. In every relation of life they endeavour to be, to do, and to think that which is right—and though there may be black sheep amongst them, the proportion of these to the main body is small In no period of their history, so far as I can learn it, have the Zoroastrians been as brutal as the Christians were so long as they had the power—nor have they ever introduced into their worship figures of men, women, or children with the apparent intention of honouring or adoring them, or the assertion that such things assisted their devotions. Being strictly monotheists, they have not split up the Godhead into three males influenced by a female who is the spouse of one and mother of a second; nor have asserted that the one great Creator is compounded of a father, a son, and a pigeon, with a woman for an intercessor with her celestial consort. Nor do the Parsees build vast temples for the Almighty to dwell in, neither do they reduce any portion of the Omnipotent to the necessity of residing in a bit of bread shut up for many a long day in a box. On the contrary, the modern followers of Zoroaster worship "the father" in spirit and in truth—not with eye service as men-pleasers, but with singleness of heart, fearing God (Col. iii. 22.), thus being, as we are told, the very men whom the Almighty seeketh (John iv. 23, 24).

The first resemblance between the Persian and the Jewish lawgiver to which we would call attention, is the mythical nature of both. The Hebrew who believes in Moses can show no other ground for his faith than a number of books which tell of Moses, his genealogy, his acts, his laws, his character, and his death. Yet when an independent inquirer subjects these books, and the accounts which they contain, to a rigid examination, he finds evidence that the writings are fabrications of a period at least a full thousand years after the era of their supposed epoch—probably more; and that all collateral testimony and all internal evidence drawn from the books themselves disprove the actual existence of Moses. To the scholar, the Hebrew lawgiver is as apocryphal or fictitious a being as Hercules, Romulus, and our own king Arthur. Nor is this belief of the critic shaken when he finds that the history of Moses is interwoven with miraculous legends—credit them he cannot; but he may pause before he determines to see in them evidence of fabrication. He cannot fairly deny the existence of Jesus of Nazareth, because many marvellous stories were told of him, nor would a similar cause alone lead him to assert that Francis of Assisi was a mythical individual. But whichever way the careful philosophical inquirer may decide the questions at issue, he will remember that many strange stories are told of the conception, birth, and life of Zoroaster, and that the critic must mete out equal justice, both to the Jew and to the Persian. Again, impartial inquirers find themselves unable to determine, with anything approaching to accuracy, either by internal evidence or contemporary remains—the positive epoch when the tale about Moses was originated. It is true that the Bible seems to afford foundation for a chronology in a few parts, as, for example, in the historical books; but these are so completely contradicted by genealogies in other parts that we cannot trust them. After stripping away every doubtful scrap from Jewish history, all we can find is, that Moses was first talked of, familiarly, after what maybe called the Grecian Captivity of Jerusalem (see Obadiah, Ancient Faiths, &c.t Vol. ii.), and that he was said to be the author of the ceremonial, moral, and political laws which were framed for the Jewish nation, and which were assiduously taught to the Hebrews after the Babylonish captivity.

The followers of Zoroaster are equally ignorant of the real history of their prophet, and are equally unable to demonstrate the claim of the Zend Avesta to be a true account of the teaching of the Persian sage, as are the Jews to prove the antiquity of their laws and nation. Putting on one side all those which may be regarded as modern fancies, the first mention made of the Prophet is in the first Alcibiades of Plato, which we may imagine was written shortly after B.c. 412, in which year that distinguished Greek citizen negociated a treaty between Athens and Persia. Plato, when speaking of the education of the sons of the kings of Persia, says (Bohn's edition, Vol. iv., p. 344), "At fourteen years of age, they who are called the royal preceptors, take the boy under their care. Now these are chosen out from those who are deemed most excellent of the Persians, men in the prime of life, four in number, excelling (severally) in wisdom, justice, temperance, and fortitude. The first of these instructs the youth in the learning of the Magi, according to Zoroaster, the son of Oromazes—now by this learning is meant the worship of the gods—and likewise in the art of kingly government." But Herodotus, writing about B.c. 450, when giving, in Book i, c. 131, an account of the religion of the Persians, makes not only no mention of Zoroaster, but attributes to that nation a form of worship differing from what is supposed to be pure Zoroastrianism;* but he mentions—and it seems to be a significant fact, that it is not lawful for a Persian to sacrifice unless one of the Magi is present, who sings an ode concerning the original of the gods which, they say, is an incantation.

         * There is strong constructive evidence, from the nature of
         the Aryan Mythology, from the pages of the Vedas, from the
         anthropological resemblances between Persians, Caucasians,
         Greeks, Latins, Germans, British, and others; from the
         linguistic alliances between what have been called the Indo-
         Germanic races; and from a variety of other sources, each
         small in itself, but strong in the aggregate, for the belief
         that the origin of the Aryan mythology, or the Vedic
         religion as it is otherwise called, may be traced to Bactria
         or to Ancient Persia. Persia is spoken of by Plato as if her
         people carried the dynasties of their kings far back into
         eternity. (First Alcibiades, Bohn's edition, vol. iv., p.
         343). Herodotus again (Book i., c. 131) tells us that the
         Persians from the earliest times have sacrificed to the sun
         and moon, to the earth, fire, water, and the winds, that
         they sacrifice on high places, have no divine statues, nor
         do they build temples. Now this is almost entirely a
         description of the old Aryan religion. The sun, for example,
         is Surya, Aryama, Mitra, Vivaswat, Martunda, Savitor, Sura,
         Ravi, Varuna, Indra Yama, Vishnu, and Krishna (Moor's Hindoo
         Paillhcon, p. 287). The moon is Chandra and Soma, and the
         origin of these words is to be found in the Persian as well
         as in the Sanscrit writings (Moor's H. P., p. 284-5). The
         Earth is Prit'hivi, 11a, Lakshmi, and Vasta. Fire is the
         powerful Agni. The water is Nara, or Narayana (Moor's JET.
         P., 74), from which all things came (see Water in Ancient
         Faiths), and the Winds are Maruts and Vaya. To these
         deities, individually or collectively, the modern Hindoo
         offers prayer and praise; and the hymns of the Rig Veda,
         such as we have them edited by Max Muller and Wilson, are
         copies probably of the same chants which accompanied the
         sacrifices of the Ancient Persians.

This seems to indicate that the Persian religion was then undergoing some supervision by rulers who had a different faith to that held at a later period. When we next turn to Herodotus, Book L, c. 101, we find that the Magi were one of the six tribes which composed the Medes; and we notice that Phraortes, the son of Deioces, reduced the Persian kingdom under the dominion of the Medes about B.c. 650. If, then, we regard Zoroaster as being the founder of the Magi, we must throw back his epoch considerably further than this date. But even if we accept this conquest as the era of the Parsee prophet, we find that Zoroaster preceded the first public promulgation of the Mosaic law amongst the Jews.*

         * Time of Zoroaster.—Dr. Hang, who is no mean authority in
         everything which concerns Zoroastrianism, states in an able
         resumê of the evidence, that we cannot assign a later date
         to the prophet than 2300 years before Christ. He quotes from
         Diogenes Laertius who affirms that Xanthos of Lydia, b.c.
         600-450, states, that Zoroaster lived 6000 years before
         Xerxes invaded Greece; from Pliny who, on the authority of
         Aristotle, says that the teacher preceded Plato by 6000
         years; from Hermippus of Smyrna, who studied Magism B.c.
         250, and averred that the founder of that sect lived 5000
         years before the Trojan war; and from Pliny, to show the
         general belief of ancient Greek authors that Zoroaster lived
         many thousand years before Moses. Dr. Haug says (I am
         quoting from "A Lecture on an Original Speech of Zoroaster,
         with Remarks on his Age, by Dr Haug" London: Triibner & Co.,
         1865), that the traditional books of the Parsees say
         Zerdosht (another form of the more familiar Greek name)
         lived 300 years before Alexander invaded Persia. Our author
         adds that Hermippus, in 250 b.c., speaks of two millions of
         verses of Zoroastrian origin, and infers that these would
         require 1000 years for their growth. He then points out the
         relationship between the Iranian and the Yedic religion, and
         Zoroaster's antagonism to the latter, and argues that this
         must have happened ere the Aryans invaded the Punjaub, 2000
         years B.c. Dr. Haug then inquires into the probable source
         whence the Greeks drew their ideas respecting the antiquity
         of Zerdosht, and argues, with great show of reason, that
         they consulted the chronology of the Babylonian priests. He
         shows that a trustworthy record was kept which went back to
         2284 b.c., this he concludes, from data given by Berosus,
         was the year when Babylon was conquered by the Medes;—and
         from Synkellos he shows that the founder of the dynasty of
         the eight Median tyrants over Babylon was called Zoroaster.
         But this word, Zarathustra, in the original, signifies a
         high priest, and to distinguish him from other hierarchs
         the prophet is called Zarathustra Spitama, in the Zend
         Avesta—hence this king is supposed not to be the prophet
         him» self, but a descendant from him, and a priest in the
         order which was founded by the original Zerdosht. This again
         points to the fact that the Babylonians could only know
         anything about the founder of Magism from the Medes
         themselves, and they might, from want of any accurate
         chronology, assign to Zoroaster any date they liked—just
         as, with many a semi-civilized nation 'a long time may be
         converted into ten, a hundred, a thousand, or a million
         years.' Haug does not endeavour to assign any particular
         date to the era of Zoroaster beyond expressing the opinion
         that he might have lived one or two hundred years before the
         Median conquest of Babylon, and that this occurrence was
         probably one of the results of the ferment which his
         doctrines caused. "He preached, like Moses, war and
         destruction to all idolaters and wicked men, and said that
         he was commissioned by God to spread the religion of Ahura
         Mazda. Daring his life-time, and shortly after his death,
         his followers seem to have engaged in incessant wars with
         their religious antagonists, the Vedic Indians, which
         struggle is well known in the Sanscrit writings as that
         between the Asuras (Ahura) and Devas (the Hindu gods). But
         afterwards they spread westward and invaded the countries of
         other idol worshippers in order to uproot idolatry, and
         establish everywhere the good Mazdayan religion. They really
         appear to have changed the order of things in Babylon when
         they conquered it, and spread a new creed, for they are
         spoken of by Berosus as tyrants." Zoroaster was the first
         prophet of truth who appeared in the world, and kindled a
         fire which thousands of years could not entirely
         extinguish."

When Moses was first talked about we know not, but at the time of Samuel, David, and Josiah he was unknown. We have no reason to believe that the Hebrews ever came into contact with, or ever heard of the Persians, until after the Babylonish conquest, followed by that of Cyrus; consequently, if the Jewish law first propounded contained nothing akin to the doctrines and laws of Zoroaster, and subsequent publications did so, we should naturally conclude that the last were copied. It is unnecessary to tell the student of biblical history that the Jews were for many years under the dominion of the Persians and Medes, and that Nehemiah, one of their great men, after the Babylonian captivity, was a personal, though humble, friend, of the king of Persia—i.e., if we take his account of himself for true.

Of the fact of there being two distinct doctrines respecting the Almighty in the Old Testament no scholar has a doubt. In the one, God is represented as the sole Being who rules and influences the world: whatsoever was done He was regarded as the doer of it. He had no powerful enemy who could thwart His will, no adversary who could withstand Him successfully. In the other the existence of two rival powers is distinctly recognised—Jehovah and Satan—the Aryan Mara, the tempter, who plot and counterplot against each other, and even condescend to personal wrangling. The most conspicuous example which we can give of these two doctrines is to be found in 2 Sam. xxiv. 1, in which we are told that Jehovah moved David to number Israel, whereas in 1 Chron. xxi. 1, evidently written by a modern scribe, we find that Satan, the adversary, was he who incited the king to perform this deed. We see the duality of persons conspicuously put forward in the first and second chapters of Job, in which Satan is represented as being at large, not being even under the surveillance of Jehovah. See also 1 Kings xxii. 20-23, wherein we find Jehovah at a loss how to bring about a certain result, and assisted out of a dilemma by a lying spirit—who can do what the Lord could not effect! We may say that the story is a fiction, but no Hebrew dare have spoken thus of Jehovah had he ever heard of Moses and his laws.

As we cannot imagine that a revelation from God to the Hebrews would be thus changeable, we can come to no other conclusion than that the Jewish writings were of human origin, and their first doctrines modified by those of other nations to whom the Hebrews were subjects or enslaved. To this consideration we may add, that when the Israelites came in contact with the Medes and Persians, they were merely a 'posse' of slaves, a crowd of prisoners removed from their own land without a shadow of power, or any influence, and only anxious to induce those who had conquered their late masters, the Babylonians, to have pity on their misery, and restore them to beggared Jerusalem. The idea of the Hebrews gaining friends by endeavouring to induce the Persian Magi to change their faith and embrace that of the poor and probably despised Jew is preposterous. On the other hand, there would be every possible inducement for the Hebrews to study the faith of that people whose God had given them victory over the Chaldeans. See in corroboration of this Ps. cxxxvii., especially the two last verses.

We may regard the question before us in yet another light, If we are to allow that the words of Isaiah are correct, which describe Cyrus as God's shepherd (ch. xliv. 28), and as anointed by Jehovah Himself, we cannot conceive that the religion which he professed was opposed to that entertained by the Hebrew prophet. As it is morally impossible that Cyrus and his hierarchy were taught their religion by any Jew, it follows that the Persian faith can lay the same claim to inspiration as the Hebrew, if the latter were not indeed almost identical with it. If, then, we insist upon the latter being "a true revelation," we must concede the same to the former, or if we pronounce the Persian religion to be of human invention, we must pass a similar verdict upon the Jewish.

When we are upon the horns of such a great dilemma we may well pause. It is indeed almost impossible for orthodox divines to make a selection which prong of the fork is the worst. If we elect to say our belief is, that the primitive teaching of the Hebrew was God-given and a true revelation, we cannot put faith in those scriptures which tell us of a devil who fights with Jehovah, and is generally victorious. If, on the other hand, we hold that the Christian notions of the Creator and Satan are true, we must regard the Zoroastrian teaching as inspired; and the early Jewish writings as unworthy of credit—of human invention and heterodox. Theologians will probably elect to remain in a state of uncertainty on this subject. Philosophers, on the contrary, will escape from it at once by asserting their conviction that both the Hebrew and the Magian religion are wholly of human invention.*

         * When commencing this chapter, it was my intention to
         amplify what I have already said in Vol. II. respecting the
         Magian religion, by giving an analysis of the celebrated
         Zend Avesta, a translation of which into French, by Anquetil
         du Perron, I had recently procured for the purpose.

         As I was aware that Dr Haug, a learned scholar, believed the
         original to be trust-worthy, I read the translation in good
         faith, but I soon began to doubt whether the book was what
         it professed to be, for to my mind it bore internal evidence
         of having been fabricated at a comparatively recent period
         by some one who was familiar both with the Aryan and the
         Mosaic, if not the Christian, doctrines and literature. I
         felt that I should not be acting honestly unless I took such
         steps as lay in my power to satisfy myself upon this point
         The essay was therefore laid aside for a considerable time,
         until, indeed, every available source of information had
         been searched. After my inquiry was over the text was
         resumed as above.

But in the middle, or perhaps we might say upon the threshold of our inquiry, we must pause to examine into the amount of confidence which can be given to those under whose guidance we are invited to place ourselves. Such investigations are too frequently omitted. Those who have faith in the Bible usually decline to search into the grounds of their belief, and, in like manner, those who have always heard the author of the Zend Avesta quoted as trustworthy are apt to take everything which it may say as correct. To avoid this error, I have consulted all the volumes of the transactions of the Royal Asiatic Society of London, and have found therein sufficient to throw the gravest doubts upon the great antiquity of the Parsee religion. It will be an useful task if I attempt to classify the evidence on each side, and to draw an inference therefrom. Our knowledge respecting the Magian religion which the Bactrian* prophet founded, is built, with the exception of the notices in Greek and Latin authors, already quoted, upon the work known as the Avesta. This is written in a language called Zand,** and there are within it parts, which are written in another tongue, to which the name of Pahlavi has been given, and from these the sacred books of the Parsees have been translated into French by Anquetil du Perron, into German by Spiegel, and into English by Haug. All these writers assume that the language referred to is Ancient Persian, and closely allied to the Sanscrit, and Haug especially endeavours to demonstrate that the Avesta, and the origin of the religion of the Parsees, must be as old as the time of the Vedas, inasmuch as the same sort of legends, the same names, and, to a certain extent, the same genii, are to be found in both. There is not absolute identity, however, for those which are spoken of as good by the Vedas are treated as bad in the Avesta. Viewed from this point, Haug assigns to the Zand volumes an age of about four thousand years, and he supports his belief by a reference to the length of time which would be required to make up the two million verses attributed to Zoroaster by some Greek author. In the conclusion that both the Zand and the Pahlavi are very ancient Persian tongues, it is stated that the majority of German and French critics agree.

         * Zoroaster is said by many early writers to have been a
         king in Bactria.—Smith's Dictionary, s.v.

         ** The word "Zend" is more familiar to many than the form
         "Zand;" but I have adopted the latter, as also the spelling
         of Pahlavi, from an essay by Mr Romer, with an introduction
         by Professor Wilson, in Vol. IV., Royal Asiatic Society's
         Journal.

But on the other hand, such orientalists as Sir William Jones, Colonel Vans Kennedy, Mr Thomas, and Mr Romer, and indeed all British oriental scholars, regard both the Zand and the Pahlavi as bastard languages, never spoken, and wholly fabricated by a comparatively modern priesthood, for the express purpose of making the holy books which they wrote comprehensible only by themselves. Such scholars show that the Zand and Pahlavi are built upon a Sanscrit, Arabic, and modern Persian model, and that the Parsee Pahlavi is very different to the Pehlevi of the Sassanian coins, and, in Vol. IV., Transactions of Royal Asiatic Society, Mr Romer supports this conclusion by a number of passages in the various languages referred to. It is also asserted that many words in the Avesta have been borrowed from the Arabic, and others from the Sanscrit tongues, possibly, also, from the Greek. Being unable, from my comparative ignorance of Eastern language, to form a decided opinion on independent grounds, all that I can say is, that it does really seem to be proved that the religious books of the Par-sees are not so ancient as they have been by many supposed to be.

The question which next arises for our consideration is, whether such volumes represent the tenets of an ancient faith, or whether they are the fabrication of men who have, possibly in the wreck of an old worship, brought about by war or other calamity, endeavoured to create a new religion out of the relics of one or more old ones. In favour of the antiquity of the Avesta are the facts that the great god, Ahura Mazdao, seems to be almost identical with the Aura Mazda of the Persepolitan inscription of Darius. But in proof of its untruthfulness as a representative of pure Persian tradition, we find the book introducing Devs and Ahuras,—the counterpart of the Devas and Asuras of the Vedas, only reversing their character—we also see Indra mentioned as a devil, whilst Siva and Mitra are introduced as Sharva and Miltra. (Haug's Essays on the Parsee, Bombay, p. 230, 1862). If, therefore, we allow that there is some of the old Zoroastrian doctrine to be found in the Avesta, we must equally grant that such teaching has been modified by hatred of a rival faith. Yet herein is another question, viz., Was the antagonism between the doctrines of the Avesta and of the Vedas contemporary with the origin of the two systems, or was the teaching of the Avesta the result of its author's coming into hostile conflict with Vedic teachers, as they possibly might have done after Alexander had opened a highway for intercourse between Persia and Hindostan?

On weighing the subject as impartially as I can, it seems to me that the Avesta contains a great deal of the Ancient Persian faith, but that it will be the safest plan for us to describe what is known of the Persian and Median faith from other sources, rather than take our information mainly from this doubtful source. Herodotus tells us of his own knowledge (B. i, c. 131, seq.), that the Persians, about b.c. 450, did not erect statues, temples, or altars—that they sacrificed on lofty hills to high heaven, the sun, moon, fire, water, and the winds, and that this had been a custom from time immemorial Sacrifice was attended by a priest or magus, and prayer and praise were offered, not for themselves alone, but for all the Persians, and especially for the king.

In about the year 521 B.c., Darius, king of the Medes, caused be made, in three languages, upon a rock at Behistun, an inscription of considerable length. The one which is in the Persian tongue has been translated by Rawlinson (Royal Asiatic Society Journal, vol 10). In it, the king acknowledges Auramazda as his god, and speaks of him as the Jews did of Jehovah. This epithet is explained by two Sanscrit roots (Op cit., vol. x., p. 68), and may be paraphrased as "The Lord or giver of life," "The great Creator," or "The Eternal," and the king in a doubtful passage refers to "the evil one" (?), who by lies deceived the rulers of certain states, inducing them to rebel, and then left them to be conquered by the Ormazd-governed Darius. In the Babylonian copy "lies" are as it were personified. Whilst in the Scythian version, translated by Mr Norris (Op cit. vol. xv., p. 144), we find the account run thus: "These are the provinces which became rebellious, 'the god of lies' made them rebel that they would subvert the state, afterwards Ormaza delivered them into my hand." The "lies," or the god of lies, we very naturally associate with the being whom we call in our time the devil, who is spoken of (John viii. 44) as a liar, and the father of falsehood, who was so from the beginning [—Greek—], and consequently regarded as coeval with the "father of light."

We next turn to such evidence as is given us in the book of Job. We select this ancient writing in consequence of the strong internal evidence there is, that it was written by some one about the period of the Achaemenian dynasty living in Persia (see Rawlinson in Journal of B. A. Soc., vol. 1, new series, p. 230). In Job we find two distinct powers spoken of, the one being the Good God, and the other Satan the opposer. The last is regularly described as if he had the power to cause war, devastation, tempest, disease, and death, for ch. ii., v. 6, lets us infer that he might have killed Job had he been so minded and God allowed the bargain, and in verse 19 of the same chapter we find him killing all the sons and daughters of the patriarch. Job clearly recognised the necessity of sacrifice for purification, for sanctification, and he seems not to have offered this upon any altar, in any temple, or with the intervention of any priest. It is clear that Job had never heard of Moses or the writings assigned to him. The persecuted patriarch and his friends all believe that punishment in this life is the result of offences committed against the Good God, but all seem to be singularly free from the idea that Satan is the cause of Job's sufferings either directly or indirectly. There is throughout the book no reference made to a preceding or a succeeding condition of man, such as obtained amongst the Brahmins, and it is doubtful whether the Persians believed in heaven or hell. When man died he was supposed to perish. Hence we conclude that the doctrine of the resurrection was not prevalent at the time the story was written, and in the country where the writer of the book of Job resided. Equally unknown to that author, whoever he was, were the ideas about angels, ministers of God, or disembodied spirits. These were of Babylonian origin. We must now, to carry on the thread of the argument, recal to mind the fact that Babylon was taken by the Medes and Persians, that the rulers of the united people often made that city their residence, that Herodotus tells us (B. 1, c. 135) that "the Persians are of all nations most ready to adopt foreign customs," and I may notice, in passing, that the same authority states that the two nations were scrupulously truthful, ceremoniously cleanly, and intolerant to leprosy. It is well known, moreover, that even after the commencement of our era Babylon was the chief seat of Babbinic and Talmudic lore.

When we examine into the religion of the Babylonians we find that they believed in the existence of angels—minis-, ters of the Supreme—intelligences,—unseen by man, yet powerful to act in his favour, or against him. If we rightly interpret many of the engraved gems which were executed by the Chaldees, we can only come to the conclusion that they believed in a Devil, a Typhon, or spirit of destruction.

We next must call attention to the fact that the Jews were conquered by the Babylonians, and enslaved in Mesopotamia for very many years—that they were subsequently emancipated by the Medo-Persians, and that the latter, whom from the inscription of Darius we believe to have been devout, permitted and even encouraged the Israelites to entertain the faith which they then held, and even assisted them to rebuild their temple. This permission, and the friendliness of Nehemiah with the Median monarch, seem to show a great similarity, if not an identity, between the Persian and the Jewish creeds.

If, then, we could frame any definite idea of the tenets held by the Jews before they came into contact with the Babylonians, and those which they professed afterwards, we might form a conception of what they got from the Chaldees, the Medes, and the Persians respectively. Without going very deeply into the matter, we may say that Hebrew scholars generally allow that the ideas of Satan—a power opposed to that of God, and of angels or spirits, were introduced between the captivity and the period when the scriptures were translated into Greek, and that the notion of a future life and the resurrection of the dead, was developed after the time of the Septuagint, about b.c. 277.

From the preceding considerations we draw the inference that the idea of the resurrection of the dead, of a future state of existence, in which each will be punished or rewarded for what had been done by him in his mortal condition, was not a portion of the original Median, Persian, Babylonian, or Jewish religion. A mass of circumstantial evidence has led me to believe that the idea of a Heaven for the good and a Hell for the bad, came from those who professed what we will call the Vedic or the Buddhist faith. If, in reply to this, it is alleged that it may have come from the Greeks directly, the rejoinder is simply this—that the Grecians, as Aryan colonists, brought with them only a rude notion of a futurity, which they were the medium of improving, when, through the influence of their arts and arms, they opened a highway to India both by sea and land. Those who could import into their armies such huge beasts as elephants, could far more readily import a new article of faith, if it pleased the priests.

If our reasoning is sound, we cannot, I think, regard the Avesta as a trustworthy exposition of the ancient teaching of Zoroaster. On the other hand, we must, in my opinion, consider it as a book fabricated to serve a particular purpose. In this respect it resembles our own Bible, which was composed for the glorification of the Hebrews when smarting under a series of ignominious defeats and enslavements; and then enlarged, contracted, or altered, to suit emergencies.

The following table will assist the reader to compare or contrast the religion of the Medo-Persians with that of the Hebrews in some matters:—

The Hebrews first worshipped a calf, and then a box; they believed that their God taught them to build a tabernacle first, then a temple, and to It is not the practice of the Perform altars for sacrifice. The Hebrews sians to erect statues, or temples, also believed that Elohim had one or or altars, and they charge with folly more human forms—see Gen. xviii. 1, those that do. They do not think 2, and the following chap. xix. 1—see the gods have human forms, also Gen. xxxii. 1 and 24-80, also Josh. v. 13, 14, 15, Jud. ii. 1-5.

The anthropomorphism of the Jewish Scriptures has already been referred to in Vol. I. of Ancient Faiths.

The Persians are accustomed to ascend the highest parts of the mountains, and offer sacrifice to Jupiter, calling the whole circle of the heavens by that name.

The Persians sacrificed to the son and moon, to the earth, fire, water, and the winds.

Amongst the Persians, sacrifices were attended by invocations and prayers, and were always offered up by a priest.

The Persians, next to bravery in battle, considered the greatest proof of manliness was to be able to exhibit many children.

Whoever has the leprosy or scrofula is not permitted to stay within a town, nor have communication with other Persians; and it is supposed that the infliction is caused by some offence against the deity (sun god). Herodotus, book I., chaps. 131,138.

The eldest son of the Persian king was instructed during youth in the learning of the Magi according to Zoroaster the son of Oromazes—by this learning is meant the worship of the gods—and likewise in the art of kingly government. Plato, in Alcibiades.

The Hebrews sacrificed on high places for a long period. Sacrifice in an enclosed place seems to have been adopted from the Phoenicians by David and Solomon, but not to have been popular for some centuries.

The Jewish people sacrificed to sun, moon, and some planets—had a sacred fire in the temple, and regarded clouds and wind as the ministers of God. The God that answered by fire was the one adopted by Elyah. The so-called orthodox Jews only acknowledged one God, and subsequently one devil.

The Jews neither offered invocation nor prayer at their sacrifices, and prophets and kings offered victims without priestly assistance. In later times every sacrifice was offered by a priest.

The Hebrews regarded a large family as a gift from Jehovah.

The Hebrews had the same practice; and, as we learn in the book of Job, and Deuter. xxviii, notably in the 27th verse, they deemed that botch, scab, itch, and emerods were punishments sent by Jehovah.

The royal families of Judah received no instruction, either in political matters or in religion, and were allowed to grow up and do much as they liked in regard to worship. The only power which influenced them was that assumed by some man who professed to be divinely inspired.

In a chapter of ancient faiths and notice an allegation which has that Parseeism or Zoroastriamsm has been borrowed from Jews and Christians. To this we wholly demur. Nowhere in the Avesta do we find a reference to the imminent destruction of the world, the resurrection of a dead man, his subjugating all the powers of evil, and reigning for a thousand years with his followers as kings and saints. Nowhere in the Avesta do we discover such immoral notions of God as prevailed amongst the ancient Jewish writers. Take these away from Judaism and Christianity, and then the two resemble the religions which are held everywhere by the thoughtful and the good. If there has really been any copying at all, we do not see the imitators in Central Asia but on the shores of the Mediterranean. The Jews copied from Tyre, Babylon, and Greece—Christians have taken as models Egyptians, Grecians, Romans, and even barbarians, and they have denied a once pure faith by covering it over with the ordures of heathenism. Yet we talk of others imitating us!

I propose now to examine at some length into such of the developments as have taken place in certain religious systems, for by so doing we shall be better able to judge what are those doctrines which Christians hold, in common with what they call Pagan nations, and how far those matters which are regarded as fundamental points of doctrine are in reality trustworthy. We must ever bear in mind that if we find the same set of ideas entertained amongst peoples who by no possibility can have had any communication with each other, it is only rational to believe that each race possesses those notions in virtue of their being human. Or, if desirous of avoiding this admission, the orthodox declares that every asserted fact is a copy of a precedent one, then we ask them to reconcile the legend of Hercules being begotten by Jupiter, and Jesus by the Holy Ghost, for unquestionably the story of Alcmena's son preceded that told of Mary's.

In the following chapter I shall avoid as far as possible any reference to the tales told of the conception of Jesus, for no man, however subtle he may be, can prove that the Son of Man had a certain mundane individual called Joseph for a father; all that I desire to show is, that in every nation whose history has come down to us there have been persons whose mothers have declared themselves to have been pure virgins until adopted by some god as a temporal and temporary spouse, or who, being wives, have asserted that a son who has distinguished himself in the world has been of divine procreation—an affirmation, be it observed, that can only be made in case the spouse has been manifestly unfaithful, or by some fulsome historian desirous of exalting his hero to celestial rank. There is scarcely a barbaric dynasty known, indeed, which does not claim an origin from some heavenly father, mother, or both.

There have been many hierarchs who, having felt conscious of the absurdity of making, by miraculous agency, all wonderful beings come from woman only, have consequently invented legends in which men have produced offspring without a consort. Some may be disposed to deride these tales, who can readily credit the stories of virgin mothers; but in reality there is no difference between the two sets of legends, in probability, wherever "miracles" are assumed. It would have been quite as easy for the writer of Genesis to have made Isaac come from old Abraham's bosom as from the womb of his hoary-headed wife. But the Jewish writers have never proved themselves as subtle as the Hindoos and Greeks. Instead of asserting that a man, without a woman's assistance, has borne a son—a matter capable of proof—they have declared that a woman has conceived, without the assistance of a man; an asseveration for which there cannot be any proof whatever, no not even physical, for accoucheurs know that many a female conceives by her lover's instrumentality, and bears a child, at whose birth, or rather when parturition is imminent, that part which is called "the Hymen," and is the Mosaical test of virginity, is not only unbroken, but so small in aperture, and strong in flesh, as to require operative or surgical interference before the child can come into the world. According to Mosaism these must be regarded as absolutely virgin mothers.

## CHAPTER VIII.

Supernatural generation. What is meant by the term. Examples. Children given by the gods. Anecdote. Frequency of god-begotten children in Ancient Greece. Their general fate. The stories not credited by the grandfathers of children, nor apparently by the mothers. The babies, how treated. Foundlings and Hospitals. Antiope. Leucothöe. Divinely conceived persons not necessarily great or good. Babylonian idea that a god came down to enjoy human women. Tale from Herodotus. Jehovah as a man. Grecian idea attached to the expression Son of God. Homer. Hebrew ideas. Roman notions. Romulus, son of Mars and a Vestal Augustus, son of Apollo. Modern ideas respecting Incubi. Prevalence of the belief. Its suppression. Causes of its origin. Bible made to pander to priestly lust. Dictionnaire Infernal. History of incubi therefrom. Stories. Strange idea that the Gods who made men out of nothing cannot as easily make babies. Divine Androgynes. Strange stories of single gods having offspring. Narayana and the Spirit of God of Genesis. Chaos. Hindoo mythos of Brahma. Birth from churning a dead man's left arm, and again his right. Ayonyesvara, his strange history. Similar ones referred to. History of Carticeya. Christian parallels. Immaculate conception a Hindoo myth. The dove in India and Christendom. Agni and cloven fiery tongues. Penance and its powers. Miraculous conception by means' of a dove. Other myths from various sources.

It is a question which should, in my opinion, be asked by every individual in a rational community, whether it is advisable to continue, as a matter of faith, a doctrine which must be repudiated, as a matter of fact. To this we may join, as a rider, can anyone who puts his credence in a legend because it is old, claim to be superior to those who originally invented the tale, in the darkness of antiquity? When moderns smile at the stories told by the classic Varro, how certain mares in Lusitania were impregnated by the wind on a certain mountain, without any access to a horse, and at the credence given to similar accounts by Virgil, Pliny, and even the Christian bishop Augustine; and by some old Scotch authority how a young woman became a mother through the intervention of the ashes of the dead: and when they pity the benighted Greeks who gave to Hercules, Jupiter for a father; and to Mars, Juno for a mother, without intercourse with her celestial spouse, it behoves them to inquire whether each may not be addressed in the sentence, "Mutato nomine, de te fabula narratur"—i.e., change but the name of the believers from Greeks and Romans to modern Christians, and it will be found that Popes, priests, and peoples believe as firmly now in supernatural generation as the most crass pagan of which history treats.

Our classical reading tells us abundance of marvellous stories—how Jupiter seduced Danae in the form of a golden shower, and yet had a common son by her, who was not an aureous coin; how Leda received Zeus as a swan, and bore therefrom a couple of eggs; how Europa was tempted by him as a bull, and yet did not bear a calf; and how Callisto, a maiden of Diana, was debauched by the same god under the guise of her mistress, and yet that from two maidens a boy was formed.

Of the amours of Apollo with a dozen and a half damsels, and of the very numerous disguises which he assumed, we find abundant details in our classical dictionaries. Mars, though not so frequently adopted by human females as a lover, had many children of whom he was the putative father.

Jupiter had Bacchus and Minerva without Juno's aid, and Juno retaliated by bearing Ares without conversation with her consort. We deride these tales, and yet think, that because we laugh at a hundred such we shall be pardoned for believing one. How little we are justified in acting thus a few philosophical considerations will demonstrate.

There are few things in mythology that are more curious than the subject of the miraculous formation of certain individuals. Some of these have been regarded as the offspring of a celestial father and a mother of earthly mould; others again, as for example Æneas, were said to be the result of a union between a heavenly mother and a terrestrial father—e.g., Æneas was the son of Anchises, a handsome man, and Venus, goddess of beauty and love. Some, though these are few, are said to be children of a virgin or deserted wife, who has produced them without any extraneous assistance,* and others are declared to be descended from a father whom no consort could ever claim. One individual, indeed, called Orion, is represented as having been wholly independent of both father and mother, and the result of a strange form of development, the like of which Darwin never dreamed of as he came from a bladder into which three gods had micturated. His name, we are gravely assured, came ab urinâ.

         * The following is a good case in corroboration of what is
         said in the text. In the Dictionnaire Infernal, to which
         more particular reference will be made shortly, there is, s.
         v. Fécondité, a report of a trial before the Parliament of
         Grenoble, in which the question was, whether a certain
         infant could be declared legitimate which was born after the
         husband had been absent from his wife four full years. The
         wife asserted that the baby was the offspring of a dream, in
         which she had a vivid idea that her wandering spouse had
         returned to love and duty. Midwives and physicians were
         consulted, and reported on the subject. As a result, the
         Parliament ordained that the infant should be adjudged
         legitimate, and that its mother should be regarded as a true
         and honourable wife.   The judgment bears date 13th February
         1537.

The quaint ideas associated in mythology with the supernatural generation here referred to have been various. In some instances they have been wholly poetical, as when we are told that "the Supreme" by his union with law and order (Themis) produced "Justice," "the Hours," "Good Laws," and "Peace" (Hesiod Theogony, 900), and as when Europa is said to have tempted Jupiter to leave Phoenicia, and travel westward to Crete as the first step towards the colonization of an unknown continent. In other instances, the ideas have been framed upon the very natural belief that anyone—whether existent in story only, or in reality—who has greatly surpassed his fellows, must have had a large element of the Deity in his constitution. In other instances, the notion has been associated with the once prevalent belief, that the Creator had a sex, to which we shall refer by and by; and in other cases, the fancy has clearly been mingled with the fact, that many an unmarried woman has attributed to some god, a pregnancy, or baby, which has been due, in reality, to a very mortal man. Here we may notice that the fecundity which damsels of old were wont to refer to a god or some inferior, but yet beneficent, deity, more modern christian girls have associated with a demon. Jupiter and Apollo being replaced by a special class of imps who were named "incubi," and of the particulars of whose embraces the strangest stories are told. This small truth seems to be sufficient to demonstrate that the Greeks were not familiar with the being to whom we give the name of "Satan" and the "Devil," and that their belief coincided in one respect with that of the older Jews, who considered that whatever occurrence happened in the world, whether apparently for good or evil, was done by Jehovah, or as the Hellenic damsels reported by Jupiter, Apollo, or Mars.

Here, too, I may be permitted to introduce a remark suggested by a narrative, told to me by a lady of high British rank. She had been brought up in a foreign country under the eye of a sensible and pious, we may add prudish, mother, who endeavoured to shield her daughter from all contact with external vicious influences, and to prevent her ears or her mind from ever coming to the knowledge of those matters which are associated with love, marriage, and offspring. When the young lady naturally inquired of mamma where the infants sprang from which came into the world and grew up around her, she was told, "from God," and she was referred to Psalm cxxvii. 3, which declares that "children are an heritage of the Lord, and the fruit of the womb is His reward." After having attained adult age, and being wholly imbued with this belief, she, on one occasion, expressed her opinion that Mademoiselle—who had recently been confined—must have been a peculiarly virtuous maiden, to have received so great a present as a baby from the beneficent Creator. This speech fell like a bombshell amongst a mixed company, but she knew not why. It was not until her marriage some time subsequently, that she learned that infants were said to come from God or the Devil according to circumstances, but that in reality they were always due to men and women.

The anecdote given above, naturally enables us to call attention to the remarkable fact that though the Grecian poets repeatedly spoke of maidens being fertilized by a divinity, yet Greek fathers never paid any heed to the power of that god, whom their daughters asserted to have operated upon their femininity; but always treated the earthly love of the alleged celestial spouse, as if the latter was wholly powerless to punish the hard-hearted parent, who had no scruples to turn his daughter from his door, so that she might hide her shame in distant lands. In those classic times, procreation by a god upon a human being was the attempted cover for bastardy. Moreover, even the woman herself, to whom Jupiter or Apollo was alleged to have descended from heaven to honour, felt herself so much injured by the visit, that she either tried to destroy the resulting offspring with her own hands, or exposed it upon a mountain to the tender mercies of dogs and vultures. Much in the same way many a modern maiden places her shame-covered infant in the turn-table of a foundling institution. Antiope, for example, the daughter of a king of Thebes, was, according to her version, beloved by

Jupiter, who visited her in the form of a satyr and implanted twins. When she discovered the coming event, which casts its shadow before, she left the paternal mansion, to avoid her father's anger, and fled to a mountain, on which she left her hapless offspring. They were found by shepherds and brought up.

The story of fair Leucothöe is still more to the point. She was sufficiently beautiful to attract Apollo, who seduced her under the form of her own mother—not a very likely story it is true, but the two lived happily together until a rival told the loved one's father of the amour. The incensed paterfamilias ordered his daughter to be buried alive, and yet the god who could change her body after death into the frankincense tree, and himself into a matronly looking woman and yet retain his sex, could not prevent his earthly spouse from dying a cruel death. In other words, Orchamus, the parent of the damsel, wholly disbelieved in the existence of a divine "spark," and felt assured that his daughter had disgraced herself with a man far below her in earthly rank.

From these, and a number of other Grecian anecdotes, we can draw no other conclusions than that the sires in those days were as jealous of the honour of their daughters as we are of our own now; that when that honour was in danger of being tarnished, a god was alleged by the damsel to be the offender; that the story was not believed; and that the daughter fled, was punished, or was pardoned, according to the sternness or credulity of the parents. The idea that individuals who were the sons or daughters of a god, must necessarily be great and good, does not appear to have prevailed amongst the ancient Greeks. Nay, we may even doubt whether any of them really believed that Jupiter, Apollo, or Neptune, could, or had ever become incarnate, for the sole purpose of impregnating a human female. That such an idea, however, prevailed amongst the Babylonians we learn from Herodotus, who informs us, book i. c. 181, that Belus comes into a chamber at the summit of a sacred tower to meet therein a native woman, chosen by the god from the whole nation; and in the succeeding chapter he indicates that a similar occurrence takes place in Egyptian Thebes, and in Lycian Patarae. Yet even whilst writing the tales, the historian expresses his own incredulity of their value, and we may well suppose that the thoughtful generally, would only give such credence to the statements of the temple priests, as was given to certain Christian stories by a philosopher, who said he believed them because they were impossible. Even if the common people credited the assertion that "The Supreme" did elect a woman with whom to converse, we must not despise them too lightly, for we are distinctly told in our own scriptures that Jehovah appeared as a man, and as such, ate, drank, and talked with Abraham (Gen. ch. xviii.); that Elohim was in the habit of conversing face to face with Moses (Exod. xxxiii. 11); and that the same God wrestled with Jacob as a man, and could not prevail against the patriarch until he had lamed him. We must also notice that myriads of Christians have believed, and many still do so, that He in a certain form had commerce with a Hebrew maiden (Luke i. 34, 35), and had by her a begotten son.

When civilization spread over Greece, there seems to have been a change of expression—which being at the first wholly metaphorical, subsequently became realistic. Thus, any man peculiarly characteristic amongst his fellows for strength, knowledge, or power, was designated "a son of God." Thus, as Grote remarks (12 vol. edition), vol. ii. p. 132, note 1. "Even Aristotle ascribed to Homer a divine parentage; a damsel of the isle of Ios, pregnant by some god, was carried off by pirates to Smyrna at the time of the Ionic emigration, and there gave birth to the poet" (Aristotle ap. Plutarch Vit. Homer, p. 1059). Plato, also by some, called "the divine," was said by Seusippus to be a son of Apollo (Smith's Dictionary, 8. v.) The Hebrews had a similar metaphorical expression, and gave to everything supereminently good, an epithet which we may paraphrase as "divine." Some few writers used the title, "sons of God," as for example, Job i. 6, and xxxviii. 7, and Hosea i. 10; an epithet adopted by John i. 12, Rom. viii. 14, 19, Phil ii. 15, 1 John iii 1, 2, as if the same were applicable to all who are virtuous and good to an especial degree. The Hebrews even seem to have adopted the belief that Elohim, like the Grecian Zeus, had many children, could, and did really, associate with human beings, for we can in no other way reasonably interpret the strange narrative in Genesis vi, wherein we are told that the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, who became the sires of mighty men of great renown.

Amongst the Romans, similar ideas to those which we find amongst the Greeks prevailed. For example, Romulus was said to be the son of Mars and a Vestal virgin; but so little did her relatives believe in the possibility of the occurrence, or the divine nature of the maiden's offspring, that the mother was buried alive, and the twins which she bare were exposed, much in the same way as modern "foundlings" are. In this case, as in many others, it is probable that little notice would have been taken of such supernatural generation had the mother been of low origin—but when a god inveigles a king's daughter from her duty, both the one and the other must be punished; the one in her person, the other in his child. Yet these very writers who told of the punishment of the Vestal Hia for her intrigue with Mars, took advantage of the story, and spread a report that Romulus, the offspring of the two, was, after his death, taken up to heaven to dwell there as a god. At a subsequent period, Augustus Caesar announced, on his mother's authority, that he was the son of Apollo, and claimed to be treated as a veritable scion of that venerable deity.

The account of the conception and birth of Servius Tullius is curious from its circumstantiality. Ovid tells us, Fasti, vi., 625-659, Bonn's translation: "Vulcan was the father of Tullius; Ocrisia was his mother, a woman of Corniculum, remarkable for her beauty. Her, Tanaquil, having duly performed the sacred rites, ordered, in company with herself, to pour some wine on the decorated altar. Here amongst the ashes, either was, or seemed to be, a form of obscene shape; but such it really was. Being ordered to do so, the captive (Ocrisia was a slave), submits to its embraces; conceived by her, Servius had the origin of his birth from heaven. His father afforded a proof, at the time when he touched his head with the gleaming fire, and a flame rising to a point, blazed upon his locks." In some earlier lines, the poet tells us that the goddess, Fortune, was enamoured of this same Roman king, and visited him nightly—much as Venus came to converse with Anchises.

In this story, we have an unusual ingredient, inasmuch as there is a witness to that which we may call the immaculate conception, and after birth, a proof of the child's divine origin! Of course there are many irreverent people who declare that the story is untrue—that it is far more likely that the real father was Tarquin, who, finding his consort's beautiful servant to be with child, contrived a plan by which she would escape the vindictiveness of the mistress—one which, if devotionally inclined, she was bound to give credence to. Nor can devout Christians altogether range themselves amongst the unbelievers in the miracle, for the founder of their religion was borne by a woman of low condition, and is said to have been begotten by an overshadowing spirit. He assumed to be a king; but the son of Ocrisia became one in reality, and instituted games in honour of his divine progenitor.

For some more modern poetical fictions of the same nature, we may refer our readers to Scott's Lady of the Lake, where, in the account of the Highland seer, Brian, they will find a parallel to the story promulgated by Alexander the false prophet, respecting his birth, described by Lucian.

The same ideas, with which we are all of us so familiar in Christendom, that they form a portion of the creeds which the orthodox weekly rehearse, have obtained in far Ceylon. Thus, for example, we read in a Buddhistic legend (Kusa Iatakaya, translated by T. Steele, Trübner, London, 1871, small 8vo., pp. 260):—

         "As Sakra*, with his thousand eyes gazed over every land,
         The hapless queen, with heart distraught, he saw dejected stand;
         His godlike eye revealed to him that to her blessed womb
         Two radiant gods illustrious from Heaven's high town should come.

         Then entering first the Bodisat's blest skyey palace fair,
         And next unto another god's, did Sakra straight repair:
         Benign he said:—Go to the world of men, that distant scene,
         And there be born from out the womb of yon delightful queen.

         The saying of the king of gods unto their hearts they took;
         Then bathed they in his feet's bright rays that shone as shines a brook:
         'Let us be so conceived,' they said, when they the order heard,
         'Within the womb of yonder queen, even as the Lord declared.'"

         —Stanzas 129-131.

         * Indra, "The Supreme."

But the two children do not appear as twins, like Romulus and Remus, for we find in stanza 155—

"Now when the darling little child, the wisdom-gifted one, Began to lift his tiny foot, and learn to walk alone, Another god from Heaven's high town flashed down the sky serene, And was conceived within the womb of that delightful queen."

I may notice in passing, that the lady was married, but had always been barren with her husband.

In the instances to which we have referred above, there has been no very marked departure from the ordinary course of nature. In all, an union between a father and mother has occurred—in all, the relation between each to the offspring has been maintained, and the ordinary progress of gestation observed. The main discrepancies which are to be noticed are, that a divine is substituted for a human father, or, as in the case of Æneas, the sire has been a man, and the mother a "celestial." But after birth, instead of the child being cared for by its parents, it very frequently happens that a goat, wolf, or other animal, performs the mother's duty as a nurse. The reader whose antiquarian lore is considerable, will probably remember that Christians in Italy, France, and I dare not say in how many other Catholic countries, were implicit believers in the idea that spirits from the invisible world could assume a human form, and under that, have intercourse with youths of either sex. The literature upon this subject was at one time very great, but such pains have been taken to destroy it, in order that so great a blot upon the infallibility of Papal rulers should no longer be found, that there are few books to which I can refer inquirers. The first time I met with the subject was in a Latin treatise by Cardan, a.d. 1444-1524,* being commentaries upon Hippocrates. In this, many chapters are devoted to the possibility of intercourse between women and embodied spirits. The Mediaeval virgins, unlike the Greeks, always attributed their pregnancy to demons and not to gods, although on some occasions maidens were foolish enough, like those of ancient Babylon, to believe that they were embraced, by a divine being or angel. Into this matter the Italian doctor enters folly, and endeavours to establish some distinction how a woman could distinguish an "incubus" from a human being, and if she became pregnant and brought forth, how the devil's offspring could be told from an ordinary baby. The particulars which are given to the learned in Latin, will not bear to be reproduced in the vernacular, suffice it to say, that they are such as would be given by silly women more or less conscious of having been guilty of impropriety, and who were goaded by sanctimonious but ribald divines to enter into every detail of the devil's doings and the females' sensations.

         * It is more than thirty years since I read the book in
         question, and I have long ago parted with it. As I am unable
         now to lay my hands upon a copy I am not sure whether the
         author was Facio Cardan, who flourished at the period given
         in the text, or the more celebrated Jerome Cardan who lived
         A.D. 1601-1576.

Before saying more of the "incubi," we may bestow a passing glance upon the foundation of the idea of their existence. In mediaeval times, a large portion of the New Testament was taken to be literally true, and the people were instructed to believe that the devil went about like a roaring lion seeking whom he could devour. The papal priests encouraged the idea, for by frightening the ignorant, they induced them to purchase sacerdotal insurance by paying for masses to protect themselves from the snares of Satan. For hierarchs who were obliged to live without wives, it was easy in the first place to imbue the mind of a superstitious maiden with a horror of Apollyon's power, and then to take advantage of her fears by personifying the fiend. In this manner the bible suggested the sin to the priest and made the maiden passive.

It would not be profitable to write a catalogue in detail of the authorities upon which I found these statements. I will rather give a short resume of an article upon "Incubi," which is to be found in a most curious book entitled Dictionnaire Infernal ou Bibliothèque universelle sur les êtres, les personnages, les livres, les faits et les choses qui tiennent aux apparitions, à la magie, au commerce de Venfer, aux divinations, aux sciences secrètes,... aux erreurs et aux préjugés,... généralment à toutes les croyances mer-veilleuses, surprenantes mystérieuses et surnaturelles.—Par M. Colin de Plancy. Deuxième édition entièrement réfondue ; Paris, 1826. The book is rare, but most interesting to the philosopher who concerns himself about matters of "faith," for it shows, clearly, that there is no depth of human degradation into which people who are guided by blind trust in some fellow mortal, unchecked by the exercise of reason, will not enter, and there reside permanently, until stirred up by those whom they assert on the first blush to be "infidels."

After a few preliminary remarks, we are told that the French incubi did not attack virgins, but in the next paragraph is an account of a maiden who was seduced by a demon in the form of her betrothed. This was in Sardinia. An English fiend acted in a similar way, and from the congress followed a frightful disease of which the poor girl died in three days. This story is told by Thomas Walsingham, b. A.D. 1410. A Scotch lass is the next victim reported, and to her the unclean spirit came nightly under the guise of a fine young man. She became pregnant, and avowed all. The parents then kept watch, and saw the devil near her in a monstrous unhuman form. He would not go away till a priest came, then the incubus made a frightful noise, burned the furniture, and went off upwards, carrying the roof with him. Three days after a queer form was born, more horrible than had ever been seen, so bad indeed, that the midwives strangled it. For the credulous, what fact could be more strongly attested than this? The reporter is Hector Boetius, b. 1470.

The next tale, having a locale in Bonn, occurred at a time when priests married and had a family. The daughter of one who was closely watched and locked up when left by herself, was found out by a demon, who took upon him the form of a fine young man. Such an occurrence was thought nothing uncommon then, inasmuch as Paul had told the Corinthians that Satan himself is transformed into an angel of light (2 Cor. xi. 14). The poor victim became enceinte and confessed the whole to her father, who, fearing the devil, and anxious not to make a scandal, sent the daughter away from home. The impudent fiend came to remonstrate, and killed the wretched sire with a blow of his fist.—Quoted from Cæsarii Heistere mirac., lib. iii., c. 8. The next case occurs at Schinin, wherein we are told (Hauppius Biblioth portai, pract., p. 454) that a woman produced a baby without head or feet, with a mouth in the chest near to the left shoulder, and an ear near the right one; instead of fingers it had webs like frog's feet, it was liver coloured, and shaky as jelly, it cried when the mother wanted to wash it, but somebody stifled and then buried it. The mother, however, wanted it be exhumed and burned, for it was the offspring of a fiend who had counterfeited her husband. The thing was taken up and given to the hangman for cremation, but he could neither burn it nor the rags which enwrapped it until the day after the feast of Ascension.

The following story is laid near Nantes:—Therein a young girl baulked of her lover, mutters something like a modern order to him to go to the foul fiend, and remarks to herself that a demon would be a better friend. She is betrayed in the usual manner, and finds, when too late, that she is embracing a hairy incubus which has a long tail. She exclaims fearfully. The "affreet" blows in her face and leaves her. She is found frightfully disfigured, and is brought to bed seven days after of a black cat. The remaining histories are of a similar nature, all alike showing how completely the so-called Christian people of Modern Europe believed that disembodied spirits could assume human form with such completeness as to be the father of offspring. We may fairly compare these tales with that told by heathen Greeks about Jupiter and Alcmena, but when we place them side by side, the ancients show a far superior fancy in their fables than do the comparative moderns. I find from Reville's History of the Devil, p. 54 (London: Williams & Norgate, 1871), that so late as a.d. 1756, at Landshut, in Bavaria, a young girl of thirteen years of age, was convicted of impure intercourse with the devil, and put to death. It is a pity that no account of the trial is appended.

Talboys Wheeler, in his History of India, vol. IL, p. 515, indicates that there is to this day, in India, a belief in incubi. Speaking of Paisacha marriages, in which a woman is united to a man without her knowledge or consent, he remarks:—"The origin of the name is somewhat curious. The Paisachas were evil spirits or ghosts (see "Lilith" and "Satyr" Ancient Faiths, vol. ii.) who were supposed to haunt the earth.... If, therefore, a damsel found herself likely to become a mother without her being able to furnish a satisfactory reason for her maternity, she would naturally plead that she had been victimized by a Paisach.... In modern times, however, the belief is still very general throughout the rural districts of India, that wives, as well as maidens, may be occasionally victimized by such ghostly admirers."

Every mythologist who has invented such stories as that of Jupiter and Alcmena, and every woman who has ever attributed her pregnancy to a divine being, call him what she may, seems completely to ignore the idea that a god who deserves the name, does not require human aid to produce a man or woman. Surely every profound thinker would say to himself, The Supreme, who could by a word create full-grown creatures "in the beginning," has not lost the power now; surely He, who could make Adam out of dust, and Eve out of a bone of man, can produce in later days similar images of the godhead, as we are told in Genesis i. 26, without accoupling with a descendant of the rib. The mythological idea, therefore, of a divine child coming from a celestial father and a terrestrial mother, has nothing profound therein, for it is essentially a bungling contrivance of some stupid man. On the other hand, such a notion could only be entertained where a grovelling or anthropomorphic idea has prevailed, or is cherished amongst a credulous people. To put the subject into the fewest words possible, a god has never—so far as thoughtful men can judge—been said to be the father in the flesh of a human being, except by frail women, or vain, foolish, or designing men.

We are fortified in this conclusion by the method in which nations or sects who have each their own favourite "son of God," treat each other. None endeavour to prove that the mother of their own hero had no commerce with man, for that is impossible—all, on the other hand, ridicule the idea of there being a child without a human father, and insist that no woman's word countervails the laws of nature. But this argument is only used against opposing religionists—it has no weight against their own divine leader. The cases which we have described are wholly different from those mythological stories, in which the union of the sexes is absolutely or relatively ignored. They differ also from those in which the Creator is represented as androgynous, or being originally without sex, becomes, by an effort of will, a bisexual being, so as to bring about the creation of man and of the world. For example, when we find in the Orphic Hymns (Cory's Ancient Fragments, pp. 290, seq.), "Zeus is male, Immortal Zeus is female," it is clear that there was in the writer an idea of an union of the sexes being necessary to creation. But when we find Chaos alone being the progenitor of Erebus and Black Night, from which again were born Ether and Bay, and Earth the parent of Heaven and the Sea (Hesiod, Theogony, 116-130), there is a total absence of a sexual notion. This idea, however, appears in the subsequent lines which represent Earth wedding with Heaven. The same sexual notion, appears in another fragment from Aristophanes, (Cory, A. R, p. 293), which tells us that "Night with the black wings first produced an aerial egg, which in its time gave rise to love, whence sprung all creation." Yet the egg necessarily presupposes a being which formed it, and another that fructified it, so that the mythos is not wholly free from the intermixture of the sexual element.

When mythologists have been peculiarly anxious to shake off the somewhat grotesque doctrine that the celestial Creator must be independent of any other power, in the genesis of the world and heaven, there has been a great variety of attempts to show how this has been brought about. In one curious Hindoo legend, Vishnu is represented sleeping on the bosom of Devi, at the bottom of the ocean which covered the world. Suddenly a lotus sprung from his navel, and grew till it reached the surface of the flood. From this wonderful flower Brahma sprang, and, seeing nothing but water, imagined himself the first-born of all creatures. But ere he felt sure, he descended the stalk and found Vishnu at its root; and then the two contested their respective claims, but Mahadeva interposed, and, by a curious contrivance, stopped the quarrel, demonstrating that before either came into existence there reigned an everlasting lingam.

Another myth closely resembles one which is indicated in the Hebrew Scriptures, viz., that Narayana, or the spirit of God, a self-existent entity, moved over the waters, and made them bring forth all things living. This Narayana is identical with the yomer elohim—"the spirit of God" of the Hebrew Genesis i. 2; the [—Greek—]—the spirit of God, or Holy Ghost of the Greeks. It is the same as the breezes of thick air which hovered over chaos in the legend assigned to Sanchoniathon (Cory's Fragments, p. 1), and produced the slimy matter from which all beings sprung. Narayana is again the same as the Night of the Orphic fragment which hovered with her black wings over immensity—the same as the chakemah, or "wisdom" of Proverbs viii.; the Greek sophia and the logos—"the word" of John i. 1. The Buddha—or Brahma of the Hindoo. From this mysterious source matter was formed into shape and all creatures sprang into life.

Another Indian mythos (Moor's Hindoo Pantheon, p. 78), attributes even more than this to Brahma. He is said to have produced four beings who proved refractory, and grieved their maker. To comfort him, Siva issued from a fold in his forehead—then strengthened by Siva, he produced Bhrigu and the seven Rishis, and after that, Narada, from his thigh, Kardama from his shadow, and Dacsha from the forefinger of his right hand. He had, apparently, without a consort, sixty daughters, and from these last proceeded all things divine, human, animal, vegetable, and mineral.

This is not altogether dissimilar from the Hebrew idea of Jehovah creating all things except woman from the dust,* and forming her mysteriously from a rib of the only existing man. We may also compare it with the birth of Minerva from Jupiter's brain, and Bacchus from his thigh. But the Greek myth differs from the Hindoo, inasmuch as the deities referred to were originally conceived by human women, and did not grow from The Thunderer's body like branches from a tree.

         * In Mythology, things ever repeat themselves, with very
         little alteration. For example, Mahadeva is represented as
         fighting with Dacsha, and producing heroes from the dost by
         striking the ground with his hair. (See Moor's H. P., p.
         107).

There is amongst the Hindoos a goddess called Prit'hvi, who is said to personify the Earth; she had many names which we need not describe, and she was also furnished with a consort, whose birth is thus described (Moor, H. P., p. 111.)—"Vena being an impious and tyrannical prince, was cursed by the Brahmans, and, in consequence, died without issue. To remedy this, his left arm was opened, and churned with a stick till it produced a son, who, proving as wicked as his father, was set aside; and the right arm* was in like manner churned, which also produced a boy, who proved to be a form of Vishnu, under the name of Prit'hu." We may add that Prit'hvi treated him badly, and he had to beat and tear her before she would be comfortable with him. Hence the necessity for ploughing and digging before crops of cereals, &c., will abound. We can understand the last part of the legend better than the first. In the Vedic Mythology, we may say generally, that the means of producing offspring are curiously numerous; for example, we find in Goldstucker's Sanscrit and English Dictionary, page 20, under the word angiras—a statement that an individual bearing this cognomen, is named in the Vaidik legends, as one of the 'Prajâpatis', or progenitors of mankind, engendered, according to some, by Manu; according to others, by Brahma himself, either with the female half of his body, or from his mouth, or from the space "between his eyebrows."

         * As these legends generally are based upon something which
         Europeans would designate a vile pun, I turned to the
         Sanscrit Lexicon (Monier Williams), first to ascertain the
         names of "the arm;" and, secondly, if there were any words
         allied to it, however remotely, which had a certain meaning.
         Amongst others, I find that buja signifies "an arm," and
         bhaga is a name of Siva—one of whose epithets, bhagan-
         dara = "rending the vulva." Dosha also means "the arm"
         and "night." Another word having the same meaning, is
         praveshta, and this not only signifies the arm, but one
         "who covers over." We can then, I think, see why the device
         of the churning, referred to in the text, made a process
         available for the production of a child. The legend is a
         clumsy one, but not more so than that in Exodus xxxiii. 23,
         wherein we are told that Jehovah showed to Moses "His back
         parts,"—Vulgate, posteriora mea—inasmuch as no one could
         see His face and live!

A still more curious story is related in the same dictionary, p. 451, under the word ayonijeswara. This appellative is one belonging to a sacred place of pilgrimage sacred to Ayonija, whose miraculous birth was thus brought about. A very learned Muni, though making a commendable use of the proper nasal way of reading sacred scripture in his own person, yet associated with individuals who did not give the orthodox twang.* The good man remained, in consequence of this, in a sonless condition, but the legend does not condescend to explain why toleration of tones in religious ceremony should make a husband infertile and his wife barren. At any rate, the Muni, named Vidyananda, feeling the punishment a great one, travelled, apparently alone, from one holy place to another without being nearer paternity. At length he met with a yogin or male anchoret, hermit, devotee, or saint, corresponding to the yoginis, who are represented by Moor (H. P., p. 235) as being sometimes very lovely and alluring; and he, taking pity upon the Muni, gave him a wonderful fruit, which, he informed him, if eaten by his wife, would have the effect of procuring for Vidyananda the birth of a son. But the Muni, like many another character in mythological and fairy tales, seems suddenly to have lost his sense of hope deferred and a certain prospect of relief, for instead of hurrying home he sought repose under a tree on a river's brink, and whilst there ate the fruit himself. He at once became pregnant. When the new state of things was evident, he confessed all that had happened to the Yogin, and the latter, by means of his supernatural power, introduced a stick into the body of Yidyânanda, and relieved him of the infant. The creature was a beautiful boy, radiant like the disc of the sun, and endowed with divine lustre, and on account of the mode in which he was born his father called him Ayonija, which signifies, "not born from the womb." The account then goes on to state that this miraculous infant became a wonderfully good, learned, pious, religious, and fanatic man; that the god, delighted with his piety, gave him sons and grandsons, and after his death received him into his heaven. Any persons coming now to bake at the spot where these favours from Siva were granted, and duly performing the various duties of a pious pilgrim, are rewarded, according to their piety, &c., with progeny, worldly happiness, freedom from transmigration, and eternal bliss.

         * This reminds me of an anecdote which I once read of a
         devout Scotch mother, who, on hearing her son read the Bible
         in an ordinary tone of voice, cuffed him violently because
         he presumed to read that Holy Book without the customary
         religious drawl.

Under the word Ayonija, Goldstucker gives the following examples of individuals "not born from the yoni" viz.:—"Drona, the son of Bharadwâja, who was born in a bucket" "Suyya, whose origin was unknown." "Draupadi, who at a sacrifice of her father Drupada, arose out of the sacrificial ground." "Sita, who sprang into existence in the same manner as Draupadi" The same is also an epithet of Vishnu or Krishna.

These stories pale in interest before that of the origin of Carticeya (see Moor's H. P., p. 51, 89), and I give an account of this legend, foolish though many conceive it to be, for everything which is connected with a Hindoo mythos is remarkable, whenever it is found to be antecedently parallel with Christian surroundings of a somewhat similar narrative. We notice, for example, in the following tale, that the Indian idea of the power of "penance" and "asceticism," is, that these doings or actions are so great, that by their means alone man may compel the Creator to do things against His design, whilst in the Papal tales of certain monks and nuns, we find the doctrine asserted that by preeminent fastings, scourgings and prayers, people have acquired the power to sell salvation to their fellow men, in a manner different to that which is appointed. Again, the god when forced to obey the power of the devotee, is represented as inventing a method by which he could, as it were, cheat himself, just as Jehovah or Elohim is said to have contrived a plan by which He could circumvent Himself for the vow which He had made to destroy all the men upon the earth by a flood of water. Again, as the arrogance of the ascetic threatened to destroy the world and the heaven, a deliverer or a saviour was promised, who should be begotten by an incarnate god upon a goddess equally incarnate, and save mankind from a terrible devil This is a counterpart of the Papal theory, which makes it appear that a portion of the godhead became incorporated with a dove, and had union with a woman, herself an immaculate manifestation of another portion of "The Supreme." Yet still more striking than this, is the part which the dove plays in the Indian mythos of the birth of the Hindoo Saviour. In almost every mediaeval painting or etching of the miraculous conception of the Virgin Mary, the dove takes the position of the divine father of Jesus. Nay, so distinct is the idea intended to be conveyed in one instance, that a dove, surrounded by a galaxy of angelic heads, darts a ray from his body on high, into the very part of the virgin, proper to receive it. The design of the artist is still farther heightened by the vesica piscis, the emblem of woman being marked upon the appropriate part of the dress, and a figure of an infant within it, points unmistakeably to the belief that the Holy Ghost, like a dove, absolutely begot the Jewish saviour as he did the Hindoo deliverer of gods and men. (See Ancient Faiths, vol IL, p. 648, fig. 48).

But the parallel may even be carried farther, for in the Indian history it is Agni, the embodiment of fire or the fire or sun god, who becomes the dove; whilst in the Christian history, fire is one of the manifestations of the Holy Ghost (Acts ii. 3). We conclude this from the fact, that all devout churchmen believe that the Holy Ghost descended upon the day of Pentecost with the sound of a rushing mighty wind, as a multitude of cloven fiery tongues, which again suggests to the recollection of those familiar with the Vedic story, that the Maruts—rushing, mighty, stormy winds—were frequent attendants upon Agni For example, in one of the Hymns (p. 39) of the Rig Veda Sanhita (translated by Max Müller), the burden or chorus of every verse is, "with the Maruts come hither, O Agni." Here, however, the parallel between the two myths ceases, for in the Indian tale the saviour has no earthly mother. We may really affirm that he has no mother at all, being the offspring of the father alone, whilst in the Christian history, the deliverer is represented as having no human sire. The one story is just as likely to be true as the other, or just as unlikely. As a reasonable being I cannot believe the one without crediting the other, or reject only one of the two.

With this preface, we may proceed to relate the legend as recorded by Moor. A certain devil or Daitya—for it must be remarked that the Hindoos regard the devil as being composed of many individualities, much in the same way as Christians do—was extremely ambitious and oppressive, as Satan is said to have been in heaven.* To force Brahma to promise him any boon he should require, the ascetic went through the following penances, persisting in each for a hundred years. (1) He stood on one foot, holding the other, and both hands upwards, and fixed his eyes on the sun. (2) He stood on one great toe. (3) He lived upon water alone. (4) He lived on air. (5) He immersed himself in water. (6) He buried himself in the earth, and yet continued as before in incessant adoration. (7) He then did the same in fire. (8) Then he stood upon his head with his feet upwards. (9) He then stood upon one hand. (10) He hung by his hands from a tree. (11) He hung on a tree with his head downwards.

         * I call attention to these parallels, for they compel as
         either to accept the Hindoo stories as true, because they
         coincide with that which Christians regard as "revealed
         truth," or they oblige as to distrust our current ideas as
         to the inspired verity of some biblical stories, founded as
         they are upon the same, or a similar, basis to those of the
         Brahmins. The Hindoo tale being founded in the Sinpurana,
         there can be no reasonable doubt that its fabrication
         preceded that of the Hebrew or Christian mythos.

The effect of these austerities alarmed all the gods, and they went to Brahma for consolation. He answered that though he was bound to grant the boon desired by a man who became powerful by his austerities, he would devise a method of rendering it inoffensive to the heavenly host. Tarika, the name borne by the Daitya, asked for the gift of unrivalled strength, and that no hand should slay him except a son of Mahadeva. This being acquired, he plundered all the minor gods—the sun, dreading him, gave no heat; and the moon, in terror, remained always at the full—in short, the devil, Tarika, usurped the entire management of the universe. Nareda—the personification of Reason—Wisdom, the Logos, or "word," now prophesied that the destined deliverer, or saviour of the world, would come from the union of Mahadeva and Parvati. But the first was indisposed to marry, and only consented to do so after being mollified by ardent devotions and great austerities enacted by the second. To the horror, however, of the discomfited world, Parvati was barren; and the gods deputed Agni to try to produce the son whom all so earnestly desired. He took the form of "a dove," and arrived in the presence of Mahadeva just as he had risen from the arms of Parvati, and received from him, in a manner not easy or necessary to describe minutely, the germ of Carticeya; but, unable to retain it, the bird let it fall from his bill into the Ganges. On the banks of this river arose, therefrom, a boy, beautiful as the moon, and bright as the sun. This was "The Saviour" promised by the prophet. When he attained to manhood, he fought the devil in a terrific combat which lasted ten whole days; but Carticeya came off the conqueror, and delivered the world. I may notice in passing that as Carticeya is represented to be the son of his father, Mahadeva alone—so Ganesa, who was born after the marriage above referred to, is said to be solely the son of his mother, Parvati; Mahadeva not having anything to do with him. It is still farther stated in the Sin purana that the husband was jealous, and displeased at this assumption of independent power by his spouse, punished her in the person of this mysterious son (Moor, H. P., page 171-2).

There is another Hindoo story in which a father alone becomes the progenitor of twins—and it is remarkable, not only for this, but for the dread which a deity is said to feel from the austerities of a man. Wheeler (History of India, vol. i, p. 78; Williams' Sanscrit Lexicon, s. v. Kripa), regards this tale as Brahmanical, and, accepting his authority, we can see that the asceticism which is introduced into the story is intended to exalt the claims of that section of the priesthood who torture themselves. It runs thus:—Saradvat, by the magnitude of his penances, frightened Indra, who sent a celestial nymph to tempt him. He resisted all her wiles, and refused all commerce with her; but his excited imagination produced one of its common effects, and from that which was "spilled upon the ground" a boy and girl arose, Drona and Kripa. In Wheeler's sketch of the story, two such miraculous events occur, for a precisely similar occurrence took place with a certain Raja—and the males sprung from this supernatural form of generation, Drona and Drupada, became cronies, and were educated together. In Wheeler's account Kripa becomes the wife of Drona, and not his twin sister. She is represented to have been born from a Brahmin named Gautama, in the same fashion as Drona was. Certes, the scribes who wrote the gospels, and doubled wonders to make them more miraculous, are far behind the Hindoos in the unblushing effrontery of their conceptions.

A story somewhat analogous to that of the origin of Carticeya—Drona and Drupada, is to be found in Grecian mythology. Therein we read (see Lempriere's Classical Dictionary, 8.V., Minerva), that Jupiter promised to his daughter, Minerva, that she should never be married—since that was her especial desire. But, unfortunately, the Thunderer had not a good memory, and was unable to foresee the future; he therefore promised to Vulcan that he would—in return for a perfect suit of armour—give him whatsoever boon he asked. The distorted god, being a great admirer of the personification of wisdom, demanded Minerva in marriage. Zeus then granted his petition and gave Minerva to him for a bride, so that "arts and arms" should thenceforth be wedded together. But the goddess disliked Vulcan, just as much as science and philosophy shun war and physical weapons. Jupiter then privately counselled his daughter to submit, apparently, but to contend, actually, whenever her husband should endeavour to caress her. This advice the goddess very artfully and determinately carried out. But Vulcan's impetuosity was extreme, and the contest between the spouses was prolonged. Though the promised wife was in the end victorious, and retained her virginity, the scene of the strife, like many another battle-field, required cleansing. The material employed by the goddess in the process was thrown down to earth, and from this stuff sprung Ericthonius, as the son of Vulcan alone, who, on attaining man's estate, became the fourth king of Athens.

A somewhat similar story is told of Jupiter (Arnobius, adv. Gentes, B. v.), who is represented as enamoured of Themis, who, when lying on the rock Agdus, in Phrygia, and there surprised by the god, resisted his desires, as Minerva had done those of Vulcan, and with a somewhat similar result. But in this instance, that which the author calls in another passage of his work, the vis Lucilii, fell upon the hard rock. This conceived, and, after ten months, the stony soil brought forth a son, called, from his maternal parent, Agdistis. His character, and even his appearance, were frightful and rugged in the extreme. His strength, recklessness, and audacity frightened all the gods. In their dilemma, Bacchus offered to give his aid, and proceeded first to make the man drunk by substituting wine for the water of the fountain from which he habitually drank. Then, by a curious contrivance, he made the fierce hunter emasculate himself. The earth swallows up the sanguinary ruins of his manhood, and in their place comes up a pomegranate tree in full bearing. This being seen by Nana, a king's daughter, she plucks some of the fruit, and lays it in her bosom. By this she becomes pregnant, and, her story being disbelieved, her father attempts to starve her. But the mother of the gods sustains her with apples (see Canticles ii. 5), and berries, or other food. Her baby, when born, is exposed as being illegitimate, but found by a goatherd and brought up—becoming the all but deified Atys.

In this legend, we see one son born without a human mother, and a second without any other father than Rimmon, or a pomegranate.*

         * Agdus, Agdistis, &c—I am frequently tempted, after
         reading a story like the preceding, to search in the
         Sanscrit lexicon to ascertain if there can be any esoteric
         signification in the legend that can be explained by that
         ancient language. Arnobius opens the story with a statement
         of the remote antiquity of the tale, and how it is connected
         with the Great Mother. He then tells of a wild district in
         Phrygia, called Agdus. Stoaes taken from it, as Themis had
         enjoined, were used by Deucalion and Pyrrha to repeople the
         world which had been destroyed by a flood. The great mother
         was fashioned amongst the rest, and animated by the deity;
         then follows the story given in the text. Now, in the
         Sanscrit, Agadha signifies a "hole or chasm," and such
         things have from the earliest times typified the Celestial
         Mother. Agdistis I take to be a Greek form of Agasti—son
         both of Mitra and Varuna by Urvasi, said to have been born
         in a water-jar, to have swallowed the ocean, and compelled
         the Vindhya mountains to prostrate themselves before him,
         &c. (Monier Williams' Sanskrit English Lexicon, pp. 4, 6).
         Themis may be a corruption of Dhamas—the moon, an epithet
         of Vishnu, Yama, and Brahma; also the Supreme Spirit (M. W.
         op. cit., p. 448). Deucalion seems readily to be resolved
         into the dyu or div—holy, and Kalam, semen virile (M. W.,
         p. 211). Pyrrha may apparently be derived from bdra—an
         opening or aperture (M. W.); also bhdra—bearing, carrying,
         cherishing, supporting (M. W., p. 700). Atys, described as
         of surpassing beauty, may fairly be associated with atisi
         and atisaya—to surpass, excel, exceed; and pre-eminence,
         superiority (M. W., op. cit., p. 15). Liber, again, who is
         clever enough to outwit and conquer Agdistis, may, without
         too strong a stretch of imagination, come from Idbha—
         obtaining, gaining, getting; capture, conquest; the rootword
         is labh—to seize, to take hold of, gain, recover, regain,
         fcc. (M. W., p. 861, 2). Nana, the mother of Atys the
         beautiful, has probably come from nanda—happiness,
         pleasure, joy, felicity, delight (M. W., op. cit. p. 467).
         In the previous volumes I have referred to the pomegranate—
         Hebrew, Rimmon—as an emblem. In the legend which makes Nana
         conceive by eating this fruit, there are, I fancy, two
         ideas—one, that the pomegranate is filled with seeds and
         pulp of a red colour; the other, that in the Greek its name
         is rota, or roa, which has a close resemblance in sound with
         reo—to flow or gush. Of the word Midas—the name of him who
         sought to bring about the union of the opposite sexes by
         marrying his daughter Nana to Attis or Atys, the most
         appropriate etymon which I can find in the Sanscrit is in
         the root math, which signifies to strike fire by rubbing
         wood together, to churn or produce by churning.

If we allow that there is truth in these derivations, we can then see how completely Arnobius has been deceived by taking the legend au pied de la lettre. He sees nothing but the exoteric side of the fable; the more instructed philosopher sees in it nothing beyond an attempt to weave a story to account for ordinary men and women existing. The Earth, from her deep womb produces stones which become male and female (compare Psalm cxxzix. 15—"When I was made in secret, and curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth." But mycologists were not always content with giving precedence in creation to the "Great Mother," consequently the "Father of all" comes upon the scene from no one knows where. Refusing to share with him her supremacy, he, like the Hindoo Mahadeva, becomes a father in spite of her. Like his parent, the son becomes raging mad, like an elephant or a horse in spring. He is tamed by castration, but the parts he loses still bear a fructifying power, and once more, a maiden—type of the celestial virgin, has offspring. Without going further into the tale, the story teller endeavours again to introduce marriage, but on the threshold arrests himself, apparently under the idea that the wedded state takes away the pleasure of freedom from fine young men. Beyond this point it would be unprofitable to go, since few of us can realize Greek ideas on certain matters.

The origin of Venus is told by Hesiod in such a manner as to lead his readers to believe that, not only was she the daughter of a father alone, but of that particular part of his body which has been deified as a Trinity. After speaking (Theogmy, 170-200), of the cruelty of Ouranos, and how his wife inspirited Cronos to punish his father by means of a sickle made of white iron extracted from her body (t.&, the earth), we read—"Then came vast Heaven, Ouranos, bringing Night with him, and eager for love, brooded around Earth (Ge) and lay stretched, I wot, on all sides; but his son from out his ambush grasped at him with his left hand, whilst in his right he took the huge sickle, long and jagged-toothed, and hastily mowed off the genitals of his sire, and threw them, to be carried away, behind him. These fell into the sea, and kept drifting a long time up and down the deep, and all around kept rising a white foam from the immortal flesh; and in it a maiden was nourished. First, she drew nigh divine Cythera, and thence came next to wave-washed Cyprus. Then forth stepped an awful, beauteous goddess; and beneath her delicate feet the verdure throve around; her, gods and men name Aphrodite the foam-sprung goddess," &c. (Bonn's Translation, p. 11,12).

Still further, we find in the Grecian mythology that Minerva was the offspring of Jupiter without a mother being in the case—unless we put faith in the tale, that the god impregnated Metis, or wisdom, and afterwards ate her up. In this case the goddess ought, however, to have emerged from the abdomen, and not from the head of her father. Vulcan, moreover, is said to have been the son of Juno alone, "who in this wished to imitate Jupiter, who had produced Minerva from his brains"—a mythos which does not tally with the statement that Zeus ordered Vulcan to cleave his head open, not the part corresponding to the yoni The tales certainly lack that evidence which the philosopher is bound to seek for; but for those orthodox believers who are bound to credit every extraordinary event which is recorded in the books of the faithful, no testimony is required. Those who feel assured that a serpent, ox, donkey, tree, bush, and other things have spoken rationally, can readily extend their trust and assure themselves that a female has had a child without a male, and vice versa—especially when the individuals were divine.

As we have before remarked, there is nothing in the mythological stories which we have just recounted that is either more or less miraculous than conception, &c., by a virgin without the intervention of a human spouse. There is, whenever a miraculous agency is presumed, no greater difficulty in believing that children may be produced without mothers, than that they should be formed without the intervention of a father. Ere a tree can rise in the soil of a field, a germ, seed, or cutting is as necessary as the existence of a moist mould, or other ground. There being then no greater probability that a crop will spring from a moist plain without seed, than that an abundant harvest will come from dry seed alone, we are necessarily thrown back upon testimony, when we are asked to believe in the paternity of man and the maternity of woman without any association of the one with the other.

The mythologists who conceived, or who recorded the fabulous history of Orion, evidently had some idea in their minds of the necessity of two elements in the formation and growth of a child, when they told the tale of the generation of that giant; and the myth connected with this individual is so curiously like one recorded in the Hebrew Scriptures, that it deserves full notice. In Genesis the narrative informs us that there was an old couple, both beyond the age at which there is any probability of either party performing the part necessary for the production of offspring (Gen. xviii. 12), both were desirous of having at least one son, but though they had been long united in marriage, their aspirations had been vain. To this couple, or rather to the husband, Jehovah is said to have appeared with two companions (Gen. xviii. 1, 2), and as the man was hospitably disposed, he ordered his wife to make some cakes, whilst he went to fetch and kill a calf for his servant to dress and cook. The visitors then partook, alone, of the good cheer, and when they had made the repast they promised the husband that his long cherished desire should be fulfilled, and that he should have a son. There does not, however, appear to be anything supernatural in the generation of the infant, except the mere facts that the father had been effete for some time, and the mother had always been barren even when young, so that conception was more surely miraculous by reason of her advanced age. The probability of pregnancy at Sarah's time of life was certainly small, but she was reminded that nothing was too hard for Jehovah to effect. Had not He already made man out of dust and woman out of man? and surely after that it was easy to cause a man and woman to act their respective parts. The reader must specially bear in mind this observation of the Lord's when he reads the Greek story following. (See Ovid's Fasti, book 5).

"Jupiter, his brother Neptune, and Mercury, were on their travels; the day was far spent and evening approached. They were spied by a venerable man, an humble farmer, who stood in the doorway of his small abode. He accosts them with the words, 'long is the road and but little of the day remains, my door too is ever open to the stranger,' and so earnest is his look of entreaty, that the gods accept his invitation."

Jupiter and the others, however, conceal their divine nature, and eat and drink like common men. But after a draught of wine, Neptune inadvertently names Jupiter, and the poor man who has thus entertained angels unawares, is frightened at their presence. After a few moments of natural embarrassment, he goes to his field and kills his only ox—the drawer of his plough—then he cuts up the animal, roasts it well, produces his best wine, and lays the feast, when ready, before his august guests. Then Jove, delighted with his hospitality and piety, says to the farmer, 'If thy inclination leads thee to desire anything, wish for it, and thou shalt receive it.' To which the old man answers, 'I once had a dear wife, known as the choice of my early youth, yet she is now gone from me and an urn contains her ashes.

To her I vowed, calling upon you my lord gods as witnesses to the oath, that I would never wed me more. I swore and will keep my word. She and I longed for a son, yet none came to bless our declining years. I yearn for one now, but will not endeavour to procure one, I wish to be a father, yet refuse to be a husband or enact his part.' To deities like Jupiter, such a request was by no means a difficult one to grant, the gods could as readily form a boy as they could fabricate Pandora—a lovely woman—and send her to Prometheus, with all the ills which flesh is heir to, confined in an ark, chest, or coffer. Yet the process of what may be designated conception was a strange one. The three simply relieved themselves of the wine which they had drunk, using the skin of the slaughtered ox instead of a more commodious vessel. The man was then ordered to bury the whole in the ground, and wait according to the time of life. The gestation of the earth was completed in ten months, and at the end of that period the venerable farmer possessed a fine lad who grew up and became famous. If, now, we substitute for the Grecian name, Hyrieus, the Hebrew title Abraham; if for Jupiter, Neptune, and Mercury, we read, Jehovah and two angels; if for the phrase, "they were on their travels," we read, "they were going down to Sodom to see if it was as bad a place as it was reported to be" (see Gen. xviii. 21); if for the ox which was roasted, we place, "a calf tender and good," we see a wonderful resemblance between the stories of the conception of Orion and Isaac. But there is this difference that in the Hebrew tale the divine gift is brought about by a transient restoration of power to Abraham and Sarah; whilst in the Grecian mythos, the old man is faithful to the memory of a beloved spouse, and refuses to renew with another the pleasure which he had in her company. We conceive that the exigency of the Jewish account, made it necessary that the son of Abraham should be of his father begotten, as well as a child of promise; whereas no one can call Orion the son of any one, although he was as surely a child of promise granted by the gods, as Isaac was, who was given by Elohim (or the gods) of the Hebrews.

We may enter now, for a short time, into a speculation whether the Grecian story was borrowed from the Hebrew or the contrary. We are disposed to believe that the tale was adopted by the Jews after they became acquainted with the Greeks. The following are our reasons:—The conception of a godhead composed of three persons, is foreign to the Hebrew thoughts of the Almighty. Still further was it from Jewish belief to think, that Jehovah would come down upon earth to acquire information, and when there, eat and drink and talk like any ordinary man. Amongst the Israelites it was generally held that no one could see the face of God and live, On the other hand, the Greeks were familiar with tales which told of gods coming down to earth in the guise of men. As an illustration of this, we may point to Acts xiv. 11-13, wherein we find that the people of Lycaonia imagined that the gods Jupiter and Mercurius had come down to them in the likeness of men, and prepared to sacrifice to them. Yet after all, Paul had simply cured a single paralytic. On the other hand, the Jews regarded as rank blasphemy, and a crime worthy of death, that Jesus should assert himself to be a son of God, even although the miracles alleged in support of the assertion were as stupendous as they were numerous.

Still, further, we cannot imagine that the degrading story of Jehovah's feasting with Abraham could have been composed, except when the Jews were no better than an untaught and grossly superstitious race. We have already, in Ancient Faiths, &c., expressed our opinion that the Israelites were at the very lowest period of their history at the time when Isaiah began his exhortations. There had been a confederacy between the men of Edom, of Moab, Gebal, Amnion, Amalek, Tyre, Philistia, and Assyria, the Ismaélites and the Hagarenes, which had attacked Jerusalem and Judea, and captured all the inhabitants, many of whom they sold to the Grecians (see Joel iii. 5-7). At, and shortly after this time, the Jews were in a condition of abject misery (see Isaiah i. 4-9), and capable of believing any story told to them, and would just as easily credit the mythology which the Grecian captives told, or their Grecian masters taught, as their successors do those which at a subsequent period filled the Hebrew Scriptures.

Whilst then, on the one hand, there is a probability of the Hebrews having borrowed the fable from Hellenistic sources, there is, on the other, the strongest objection to the supposition that the Greeks should have borrowed from the Jews. Everything which the latter say of themselves, indicates that they were exclusive to an inordinate degree, refusing to have intercourse on equal terms with any of their neighbours, that they never sought to make their history, laws, and customs, known to Gentiles, and especially those outside of Judea, and that their writings never assumed a Grecian dress until the time of Ptolemy Philadelphus, who ordered the Septuagint translation to be made about B.c. 285, with the direct view of making the Hebrew Scriptures known to the Greeks.

Moreover, we know from everything which was said of the Jews by the Gentiles, that the latter treated the former with contempt and contumely, and would no more dream of imitating any of their writings, &c., than we should care to adopt the myths of Abyssinian negroes as an integral part of Christianity.

It will now be profitable if we examine the story of Sanchoniathon and the statements of the Orphic Hymns.

We have, in the course of this chapter and elsewhere, so» often referred to the Grecian story of the Creation as given by Sanchoniathon and in the Orphic hymns, that I think my readers are entitled to receive some further account of them; so I reproduce passages which bear upon supernatural generation, and especially that of the world and its inhabitants—my main authority being Ancient Fragments, &c., by J. P. Cory (London, 1832).

Of Sanchoniathon we know little; our information may be summed up by saying that he is mentioned eulogistically by Eusebius (a.d. 270-338), an historian whose veracity cannot be entirely depended on. He says that Sanchoniathon had, ere his time, been translated by a certain writer called Philon Byblius, and it seems that Porphyry is credited with having copied a great part of this translation into Greek from the Phoenician. Nothing, however, is actually known of the historian in question, except from Eusebius (Smith's Dictionary, p. 308, vol.III., s. v., Philon.) We may then assume, according to our inclination, either that the story is really a compendium of Tyrian legendary lore, or simply a representation of what the Greeks imagined. The way, however, in which the generation of beings is described, well deserves attention from its similarity, and its contrasts with the biblical story. First, there was a breeze of thick air and Chaos. These united and produced Pothos. This again united with the wind, and Mot was the result, also called Ilus; from this sprung the seed of Creation. And there were certain animals without sensation, from which intelligent animals were produced.* After this follows a quantity of stuff that is traceable to Hesiod, and a part of which may be considered a paraphrase of Genesis. Then mention is made of Elioun, called Hypsistus (the most High), and his wife Beruth—as being the contemporaries of others; but no indication is given from whence they came. These produced Ouranos (Heaven) and Ge (Earth). Their father was killed by wild beasts! Then Ouranos married Ge, and had offspring by her. But he had other women, and Ge was jealous. Ouranos, however, came to her when he listed and attempted to kill her children. He had a son, Cronus, who drove him from his kingdom. This son turns out to be the original being called Ilus, and he contrived to emasculate his father, and from the blood which flowed sprang rivers and fountains. The remainder of this story scarcely deserves notice.

         * The author of the tale evidently had something in common
         with our modern Darwin.

Ere we turn our attention to the compositions known as the Orphic Hymns, it will be interesting to inquire whether the preceding account of Creation had a Phoenician origin, or may more fairly be traced to an Indian source flowing through a Greek channel After a diligent search in the Hebrew Lexicon—and it is to be noticed that the Hebrew is all but identical with the Tyrian and Carthaginian, I cannot find any words or roots from which the proper names in the opening paragraph of Sanchoniathon can by any ingenuity be derived. Nor can I discover in the Greek anything which explains the esoteric signification of the story.

But, on reference to the Sanscrit, there is a curious identity apparent between the second verse in Genesis and a Hindoo idea. The former runs:—"The earth was without form and void (tohu ve bohu), and darkness was upon the face of the deep, and the spirit of God moved on the face of the waters." The Indian interpretation of the myth is this:—"Air in motion, vahu, ruffled the inexplicable, or empty space, ka, has, or Icha, Icham, a word also signifying 'nothing.' Thence proceeded the earth, Ua, or Mot (Sans); Math (Sans) making fire by rubbing sticks (coitus?) Mada, mdda, and moda, pleasure, delight, gladness=love, Eros." This is almost the same idea that Hesiod propounds.

In the Orphic Hymns we find much more clearly than in any other writing amongst the ancient Greeks the early Hellenic notion of the generation of the worlds and of mankind. Respecting the value of the fragments there may be some difference of opinion. The curious and doubtful may be referred to Smith's Dictionary (s.v. Orpheus); for me it will be sufficient to state that both Aristophanes and Plato refer to the presumed author as a religious teacher and a preacher against murder, and Euripides frequently mentions him. This will place Orpheus at least before b.c. 480. If, however, we consider him as identical with the oft-sung husband of Eurydice, we must place him B.c. 650 (Smith, s.v.).

In quoting from Cory's translation, I shall not scruple to make the sense of more importance than literality: "Zeus is the first—he, the thunderer, is the last; he is the head and the middle, he fabricated all things. Zeus is male; he, the immortal, is also female; he founded the earth and the starry heaven; he is the breath of all things, the rushing of indefatigable fire. Zeus is the root of the sea, the sun and moon, the king, the author of universal life; one power, one demon, the mighty prince of all things; one kingly frame, in which this universe revolves—fire and water, earth and ether, night and day, and Metis (counsel); the primeval father and all delightful Eros (love). All these things are united in the vast body of Zeus. Would you behold his head and his fair face? It is the resplendent heaven, round which his golden locks of glittering stars are beautifully exalted in the air. On each side are the two golden taurine horns, the risings and settings, the tracks of the celestial gods: his eyes are the sun and opposing moon; his unfallacious mind the royal incorruptible Ether."

The next fragment has been filched by the author of Sanchoniathon, and we must not quote it. After a recapitulation about Chaos, Cronos, Ether, and Eros, he proceeds:—"I have sung the illustrious father of night existing from eternity, whom men call Phanes, for he first appeared. I have sung the birth of powerful Brimo (Hecate), and the unhallowed deeds of the earth-born giants who showered down from heaven their blood—the lamentable seed of generation, from whence sprung the race of mortals who inhabit the boundless earth for ever."

"Chaos was generated first, and then the wide-bosomed Earth—the ever stable seat of all the Immortals that inhabit the snowy peaks of Olympus and the dark dim Tartarus in the depths of the broad-wayed earth, and Eros—the fairest of the immortal gods, that relaxes the strength of all, both gods and men, and subjugates the mind and the sage will in their breasts. From Chaos were generated Erebus and black Night; and from Night again were generated Ether and day, whom she brought forth, having conceived from the embrace of Erebus; and Earth first produced the starry heaven, equal to herself, that it might inclose all things around herself."

The preceding is given by Hesiod (900 B.c.). The following is the version given by Aristophanes:—"First were Chaos and Night, and black Erebus and vast Tartarus; and there was neither Earth nor Air nor Heaven: but in the boundless bosoms of Erebus, Night with her black wings first produced an aerial egg, from which at the completed time sprang forth the lovely Eros, glittering with golden wings upon his back like the swift whirlwinds. But embracing the dark-winged Chaos in the vast Tartarus he begot our race (the birds). The race of the Immortals was not till Eros mingled all things together; but when the elements were mixed one with another, Heaven was produced, and Ocean and Earth and the imperishable race of all the blessed gods."

"Maia, supreme of gods, Immortal Night, tell me, &c." The next invocation is to the double-natured Protogonus—the bull coming from the egg, the renowned light, the ineffable strength, Priapus the king, &c.—"Metis (wisdom) bearing the seed of the gods, whom the blessed inhabitants of Olympus call Phanes Protogonus." "Metis the first father and all-delightful Eros." Again, in allusion to Phanes,—

"Therefore the first god bears with himself the heads of animals—many and single—of a bull, of a serpent, and of a fierce lion, and they sprung from the primeval egg in which the animal is seminally contained." "The theologist places around him the heads of a ram, a bull, a lion, and a dragon, and assigns him first both the male and female sex." "Female and Father is the mighty god Ericapeus; to him also the wings are first given."

The Japanese account of the creation is of sufficient interest to be noticed here. I quote it from a translation of the Annals of the Emperors of Japan, by Mons. Titsingh, assisted by interpreters of the Dutch Factory at Nagasaki, and rendered into French, after being duly compared with the original by M. J. Klapworth—(printed for the Oriental Translation Fund of Great Britain and Ireland; London, 1834). In the account of the seven generations of the heavenly bodies, we are told that "anciently the heaven and the earth were not distinct, nor was the female principle then separated from the male. The chaos, having the form of an egg, moved about like the waves of an agitated sea. The germs of everything were there, and these ultimately divided, the pure and transparent ones going upward to form heaven, whilst the dull and opaque ones coagulated and formed the earth. Between the two a divine being sprang up; he was followed by two others in succession." All these were pure males, and engendered without consorts. After them came a male and a female deity, but they had no intercourse with each other. These and three other divine couples, who followed them, reproduced their like by mutual contemplation. The last couple directed the "celestial spear made of a red precious stone"—said by Japanese commentators to be the phallus—into the world below, and stirred it up to the bottom. On withdrawing the lance some drops fell from it and produced an island, upon which the celestial couple descended. Each one then began to walk in opposite directions around the isle, and when they met the feminine spirit sang joyously—"I am delighted to find so handsome a young man." But this vexed the male spirit, who, being a man, asserted that he ought to have been allowed to speak the first. So they parted once more on their solitary walk; and when they met the second time, the woman waited to be spoken to. Then followed a conversation somewhat too coarse for repetition, which was followed by corporeal union. From the intercourse of these divine beings all creation sprang. But, after a time, the partners reflected that there was still wanting a governor for the world which they had engendered. So they again accoupled, and produced a daughter so lovely, that her parents thought her too good for earth; gave her the name of "the precious wisdom of the heavenly sun," and sent her to heaven, there to assume the universal government of all things. The parents once again united, and produced the moon, who was sent to heaven to assist her sister. A terrible fellow was then born from them, who represents the Devil, or those tempests which seem to oppose the beneficent action of the sun upon the soil. The parents returned to heaven, and there are constant contentions between the brother and sister. The former is described as being furious under attempts at control; generally, he was quiet, and always had tears in his eyes (dew and rain), but sometimes, when provoked, he broke every thing, uprooted trees, and set the mountain forests on fire. We need not pursue the story further than to say that the celestial beings created a terrestrial couple, whose children bear considerable resemblance to the Greek Jupiter, Apollo, Neptune, and others, and from them came the first Emperors of Japan. In the matter of evidence upon such a point as the conception of a man without a woman, or a woman without a man, it is clear that unsupported assertion is wholly valueless.

For example, I may for a time absent myself from general society, and return to it again after a certain interval, having with me a child, whom I assert to be my very own, produced by my own inherent power, just as a tree produces a leaf which grows, matures, and falls. I may frame a romantic account of a dream, in which I was told that if I planted myself in the central bed of a certain garden, and contrived an apparatus for daily watering my buried legs, that a child would sprout from my right side, who should be to me as a daughter. Yet, however ingenious my tale, there is not any one possessing sound sense and knowledge who would believe me. In like manner, if a woman should tell a story analogous, though not identical, she is certain to be discredited; even the assertion of the existence of a divine father would not, if the woman were unmated, save her character from a stain.

We may next refer to the legend of Prometheus, inasmuch as in many points it resembles the Hebrew mythos so greatly, that we must imagine they both have a common origin, or that the one is a copy—though an indifferent one, of the other. Prometheus, or forethought, was represented to be the first who made an ordinary man—he formed him of clay, and then animated him with fire from heaven. The Jewish tale asserts that it was Jehovah who made the first man. That man was first formed like a statue out of clay or dust, and had no life until breath was infused into his nostrils. In both stories man alone is formed first. In the Grecian fable Prometheus does not make a consort for his man; nay, he refuses to receive one for himself when the gods send to him Pandora—a paragon of loveliness. Instead of this he gives the damsel to Epimetheus—or after-thought—who takes her carelessly, and finds that even a charming woman is not a guarantee against cares and woes. Some accounts, however, say that Prometheus made both man and woman out of clay.

The discrepancy does not signify much, for we see the same in Genesis, wherein we are told in one place that man and woman were made together, whilst in another the story runs that Adam preceded Eve, and that, instead of being formed of dust or clay, the latter was formed of bone.

We may now refer to the story of Apollonius Tyaneus, whose history has interest for us, inasmuch as it illustrates three important points, upon which much stress has been, and may still be, laid by inquiring minds. The most conspicuous is the propensity of historians, or, to speak more correctly, of a biographer, to record wonderful things about an extraordinary man; next the ridicule cast upon the tale by those who have circulated stories equally improbable, and the indication that travel to Hindostan was apparently common, prior to and during his time. In sketching the life of the philosopher, I quote something from Le Dictionnaire Infernal, and the rest from Smith's Biographical Dictionary. The philosopher in question was born about 4 years B.C. His history was written by Philostratus, about 100 years after the hero's death, and is ostensibly founded upon memoirs left by his secretary, Damis, an Assyrian, who accompanied Apollonius during his travels, and recorded his discourses and prophecies, and acted much as Luke did with Paul.

Amongst the proofs which Damis gives of his veracity, he tells us that when he and his master traversed the Caucasus, they saw the chains which bound Prometheus, still fixed to the rocks. This bit of verification is now derided, but in my school-days I recollect having an account put into my hands, written by some author, stating that the remains of the ark were still to be seen upon Mount Ararat.*

         * On the day before this was written there appeared in The
         Telegraph a paragraph, to the effect that an Assyrian slab
         had been translated by Mr. Smith of the British Museum. The
         record is said to give an account of "the deluge," and it
         tallies nearly with that given by Berosus, recorded in my
         second volume.    It adds, however, that the ark was at that
         period in existence, and its wood and bitumen used as
         amulets. Singularly enough, the tale is supposed to confirm
         the bible legend, the writer of the paragraph never dreaming
         that it more certainly confirms the Babylonian or Assyrian
         origin of the book of Genesis. The other parts of this slab,
         which were wanting, have more recently been found. But there
         is no necessity for me to change the wording of the note.

There was also current a "Joe Miller" about some old woman, who would not believe in flying-fish, which her sailor-boy had seen, but who readily believed his tale of hooking up a chariot wheel on an anchor fluke from the bottom of the Red Sea!

Dr. Smith, or Mr. Jowett, the author of the article, very judiciously says—"We have purposely omitted the wonders with which Philostratus has garnished his narrative.... Many of these are curiously coincident with the Christian miracles—(the italics are our own). The proclamation of the birth of Apollonius to his mother by Proteus, and the incarnation of Proteus himself; the chorus of swans which sung for joy on the occasion, the casting out of devils, the raising the dead and healing the sick, the sudden disappearances and reappearances of Apollonius; his adventures in the cave of Trophonius, and the sacred voice which called him at his death—to which may be added his claim as a teacher, having authority to reform the world—cannot fail to suggest the parallel passages in the Gospel history." We learn, moreover, that the biographer was high in favour with Alexander Severus, and that Eusebius of Caesarea naively allows the truth of Philostratus' narrative in the main, with the exception of what is miraculous. None of the authors quoted seem to think of the adage—"Change but the names, and the same classes of wonders are a matter of faith to you." Surely it is as easy to credit the strange deeds of Proteus as those of Gabriel.

Whether we choose to adopt the hypothesis that Apollonius was a rival of Jesus, that the Nazarene and Tyanean were independent of each other, that the evangelists took a hint from Damis, or Philostratus imitated Luke in more ways than one, we have still the fact that two different biographers, giving a history of the life of two contemporary individuals, assert that the birth of their respective heroes was announced by a divine being, who himself brought about the conception of the infant that, on arriving at maturity, was held to be divine. In writing thus, it will be distinctly understood that we draw no comparison between Jesus and Apollonius, but only between the authors who have undertaken their respective biography.

Leaving this curious point, the next noteworthy one is that Philostratus records, that the Tyanean went through Assyria, Babylonia, and Bactria, to India, "where he met Jarchus, the chief of the Brahmins, and disputed with Indian gymnosophists already versed in Alexandrian philosophy." I have placed these last words in italics, to call attention to the apparent belief of the historian, that prior to his day there had been extensive religious communication between India and Greece—a point on which I have much insisted in a previous chapter. The Tyanean is said to have been five years upon his eastern journey. We have no idea where the Nazarene was during his youth and before he began his public career, and we cannot help regarding the omission to notice this part of his life as being blameworthy in the evangelists. Those who knew so much of Jesus at his conception, and about his birth and infancy, could surely, if they would, have informed us of his adult years.

Nor, à propos to this short account of the biography of Apollonius, by Damis and Philostratus, must we omit to notice the conceits of those who have assumed that the Tyanean was set up as a counterfoil to, or an imitator of, Jesus of Nazareth; for, just as the Christians may, with some show of reason, affirm that the miracles recorded in their writings have been filched by others; so may the Buddhist, with still greater plausibility, declare that the greatest part of the life of the Nazarene, as given in the Gospels, has been copied almost verbatim from the biographers or evangelists of the Indian saga For myself, I consider that the miraculous parts of the history of all the three conspicuous men which have been named are equally true or—false.

The idea of attributing to the Supreme God the birth, or, rather, the procreation, of an extraordinary man, seems, so far as we can judge, to have existed in the Western Hemisphere as well as in the Eastern. For example, in an interesting book, entitled New Tracks in North America, by W. A. Bell, M.A., M.B., Cantab; London, 1869, we find the following legend respecting Montezuma, the most popular ruler of the ancient Mexicans. The legend is intended to explain the occurrence of vast ruins amongst the Pima Indians, of which other history is silent, and runs thus: "Long ago a woman of exquisite beauty ruled over the valleys and the region south of them. Many suitors came from far to woo her, and brought presents innumerable of corn, skins, and cattle to lay at her feet. Her virtue and determination to continue unmarried remained alike unshaken, and her store of worldly possessions so greatly increased, that, when drought and desolation came upon her land, she fed her people out of her great abundance, and did not miss it, there was so much left. One night, as she lay asleep, her garment was blown from off her breast, and a dew drop from the Great Spirit fell upon her bosom, entered her blood, and caused her to conceive. In time she bore a child, who was none other than Montezuma, who built the large 'Casas,' and all the other ruins which are scattered through the land" (vol. i. p. 199).

It is allowable for the reader to doubt whether there ever was a Mexican Queen whose renown was spread far and wide, who preferred celibacy to marriage, and who, being rich, was not plundered by the chiefs whose alliance was rejected. We may equally doubt the efficacy of a drop of water, even though it came from the Great Celestial Spirit; but, notwithstanding every objection which the most sceptical can advance, the legend is quite as probable as those current amongst the ancient Greeks, the religious Hindoos, and a large portion of modern Christians. A miracle, always improbable, is not necessarily true because it is said to have occurred in the old world, or indubitably false because it is reported to have happened in the new. Nor can one who regards faith as superior to reason, refuse to believe or to question the truth of any supernatural story simply because he was not told it during his childhood or youth.

When the philosophical inquirer finds that in every country, with whose literature we are familiar, there are, not only abundance of tales about supernatural generation before the world was formed, but from the earliest periods of history to our own day, he may well pause and inquire into the intrinsic value of a religion or a faith that is founded mainly, if not wholly, upon the assertion that a certain person was the son of the Supreme Creator, and being so, has the qualities of his sire as well as those of his human mother. The orthodox in Britain do not believe in Cristna, Krishna, or Vishnu, because the Hindoo sacred books declare that he has appeared repeatedly as an incarnation of the Creator—nor do they credit the tales told of the supernatural generation of Bacchus or Hercules—yet, when they are asked what stronger evidence they have for the truth of their own story, they are unable to give more than affirmations, strong, perhaps, but not more so than those of ancient Hellenic priests.

It is out of my province, now, to enter into every thing connected with the doctrine held by those who are known as Trinitarians. My main endeavour in this part of my subject is to clear the way for "reconstruction." It is my desire to give to those who have not the leisure, or, perhaps, the inclination, to wade through the dull tomes of theological, mythological, and similar books, an account of what is and has been entertained as religious belief by others, with whom, or with whose opinions, they have not come in contact. I have no special wish to prove that my opinions are right and the prevailing ones wrong; my chief aim is to give data by which others may form a judgment for themselves. With this view I have systematically endeavoured to satisfy myself of the trustworthiness of the witnesses whom I call upon to testify to facts; to my knowledge, nothing has been suppressed which seems to me to bear upon my subject, nor is aught set down in malice.

In my next chapter I shall institute an inquiry into another important doctrine, held by Christians from their first existence until the present day, namely, the Existence and Ministration of Angels. Since the chapter was originally written, Dr. Kalisch has published an essay upon the same subject in the second part of his commentary upon Leviticus. I shall probably take the liberty of quoting from his pages; but, as we treat the matter from different points of view, I do not feel called upon to suppress my own work because he has preceded me. It gives me pleasure to feel and to know that fellow-workers in the same toilsome task, not only may help each other, but rejoice in the opportunity of so doing.

## CHAPTER IX.

         Angels. The ideas associated therewith. Why winged. Wishing-
         caps. Jehovah and His Angels made to walk by the historian.
         The belief in Angels incompatible with that of an
         omnipresent and omniscient God. Pictorial representations.
         Absurd conceptions of angelic wings. Angela want birds'
         tails. Men have tried to fly. Difference between birds and
         men. Arms and wings. A writer at fault about this world is
         not to be trusted in his accounts of another. Bats and
         similar mammals. The Devil better winged than Michael—Yet
         Satan, a roaring lion, goes about as a bull with bat's
         wings. Angels and beetles. Harmony in creation. Strange idea
         of spirits. Spiritualism. Varieties of angelic forms. Not
         the products of lunacy. Angels and demigods. Egyptian ideas.
         Assyrian notions. Christian fancies. Birds and Men united in
         human celestialism. Persian Angels. Mithra winged. Angels in
         Persia twelve in number. Job, the work of a Persian Jew.
         Angels referred to therein. Darius had a consecrated table.
         Babylonian belief. Daniel. Greece and Rome. Gods, Demigods,
         Angels, and Saints. Christian demigods. Angels' duties.
         Book-keeping, clerks of wind and weather;—police-agents.
         The inventor of Heaven admired centralization. Babylonian
         tutelary Angels. Christian ones. Christian saintly imagery.
         The bleeding heart of Mary. A funny Chaldean goddess to
         match. Popish saints have an aureole, but no wings. Francis
         of Assisi could make stigmata but could not change his arms
         into pinions. Babylonian and Papal emblems identical
         Development of Angels amongst the Jews in Babylon. Angelic
         mythology founded upon Astronomy and Astrology. Planets are
         Archangels. Angels and Devils mentioned on bowls found in
         Mesopotamia by Layard. The probable meaning of their names.
         Hebrews adopted Chaldee beliefs: evidence. Juvenal. Jews and
         Chaldeans. Sadducees and Pharisees. Sadducees and our
         Reformers compared. A legal anecdote. Angels in Ancient
         Italy. Our angelic forms are of Etruscan origin. Some such
         beings had three pairs of wings. Etruscans had guardian
         angels for infants and children. Angels carry various
         matters. Angels of marriage. Angels for heirs of salvation.
         Etruscan angel of marriage. Jewish match-maker. Raphael.
         Description of an Etruscan painting in tomb of Tarquin. The
         angel of death. The Greek theology. The Greeks taught the
         Jews. The Jews never taught other nations. Greeks had a
         supreme god and a host of inferior deities. War in heaven.
         Titans—giants. Children of the sons of God and daughters of
         men. Greek origin of Christian and Miltonian angelic
         mythology. The begotten Son of God (Hercules born to Jupiter
         by Alcmena). Restores the kingdom to his father. Greek ideas
         of demons. Hebrew and Christian ideas of good and bad
         spirits. The recording angel. Demigods and archangels. Greek
         deities not winged except Mercury. Some minor gods have
         pinions.—Pegasus has wings. Hymen, the angel of the
         covenant of marriage. Genius loci and cherubim. Alcmena and
         Mary. Jupiter and "the power of the Highest" Roman
         mythology. Romans adopted the Etruscan form of angels.
         Christians adopted it from Romans. The Christian crozier is
         the Etruscan and Roman lituus, or "divining staff." Rome
         and London both avid of religious novelty. Instability in
         religion a proof of infidelity in the old. Hence a desire
         for infallibility, to crush doubt. Angelic mythology of the
         Bible. Christians use words in parrot fashion. Words ought
         not to stand for ideas. Prayer-cylinder in Thibet.
         Contradictions. Figures and metaphors are theologian cities
         of refuge. Prophet who says that he converses with an angel-
         -is he to be credited? A spirit without flesh and bones,
         cannot move his tongue to utter words. Drunkards see "blue
         devils"—they are unreal If the appearance of a man in a
         dream is an illusion, his words are so too. Absurd ideas
         about phantoms. Notice of the deeds of a few Hebrew angels.
         A resume of their history. Inspiration did not reveal
         angels. Human fancy did. Conspiracy in Heaven! The Genesis
         of Hell. What sort of a place it is supposed to be. God made
         the Devil, so man must multiply his imps! Lucifer taught
         Elohim! Old Testament less knowing than the New. The Devil
         not a fallen angel. The book of Enoch. Deductions drawn.

There is scarcely a single article in our current belief which does not prove, on examination, to have descended to us from Pagan sources, or to be identical with heathen beliefs older than the Hebrew. The idea of a personal God dwelling in some locality, vaguely described as "Heaven," in which He reigns, and rules, like a modern emperor, has been found to exist in almost every nation whose language we know, and whose history has descended to us. Human weakness makes it so. Such a ruler has been called Brahma, Siva, Vishnu, Mahadeva, Bel or Baal, Melech or Moloch, Ormazd, Elohim, Jah, Jehovah, Jupiter, Yahu, God, and a variety of other names; but He has always been hailed as king, and lord of all creation, having a throne beside which attend a number of servitors, standing before and around him, all ready to do his bidding and to go wherever they are sent. As a potentate rules on earth over provinces far distant from the central government, so the heavenly monarch was, and is yet, supposed to have "viceroys," "lieutenants," or "vicars," who have authority delegated to them, and exercise it under his superintendence.

A scheme such as we have described does not seem to have existed from the first amongst the Jews; for, when men of reasoning powers conceived the idea of a Creator, He was regarded as omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent. It became gradually interwoven with theology; for when men of limited capacity thought of such a vast empire as the universe, they, under the influence of a grovelling anthropomorphism, recognized, as they imagined, the necessity of furnishing it with a system of acquiring intelligence, and promulgating decrees which should be far superior to any postal plan devised by human kings. Amongst the Kaffirs, men with missives race against time, and by means of relays, messages are sent to vast distances in a comparatively short period. By means of horses, skilfully engaged beforehand, an ancient Persian tyrant could make his commands known all over his vast empire in the course of a few days, and moderns, by means of railways and the electric wire, can forward information at a still more rapid rate.

Yet, to old theologians, and even to observant men of the present day, all these means of communication between God and his subjects seemed to be slow. We may, for example, notice a fly buzzing round the head of the running Kaffir, or the ears of the fleetest of Persian steeds, and a swallow on the wing outstrips a railway express. The velocity of the carrier-pigeon has long been known. All these were, therefore, regarded as swift-winged creatures, and fit for message bearers. As then, it was observed, that of all beings who could move, the bird is the swiftest in its movement from place to place, it was very natural that dogmatists should represent the messengers of the great king with powerful pinions, like those of the eagle or the albatross. In this manner the addition of wings to any mythological character sufficed to show that he who bore them was a celestial being; one who stood before the supreme ruler, and received from him delegated power—either as vicar, viceroy, or messenger. Thus the Greeks depicted Mercury with wings on his legs and elsewhere, and the Hebrews gave large pinions to their seraphim—sometimes as many as six being used by each (Isa. vi. 2.) The Etruscans pictured their angels with two wings only, and we have followed, implicitly, their lead. But the Hindoos did not in early times adopt ideas such as this. They noticed the speed of the sunbeam, the velocity of the hurricane, and the rapidity of thought; and since they saw many birds borne away by the wind, they imagined that celestial messengers must travel in a corresponding fashion. For one who rode upon the clouds of the typhoon, pinions were useless. I have in my possession a plate,* in which the celestial attendants on the god are all wingless, but have sex. The name given to the attendants referred to is "Apsaras," who are described as having been produced in myriads when the ocean was churned. They are said to reside between the waters above the firmament and those below it, and are represented as being of consummate beauty and elegance of form, their business being to attend upon the gods and give them pleasure, by singing, music, dancing, and in every possible way. They are sometimes represented as being of both sexes, all having the power to change their gender. Generally, they are described as females, and take the business of Venus in the Greek heaven, and of the Houris in that provided by Mahomet and his followers. The Hindoos have in their theology an abode of bliss, in which the pleasures are wholly sensual. In this they do not differ from the Christians, except that the latter only expect to indulge in music and a sanctified vengeance.

         * Plate x., vol. 1, "Recherches sur l'origine, &c., des Arts
         de la Grèce," D'Harcanville, London, 1785. The author states
         that the plate is copied from Le Voyage de Niebuhr, T. 1,
         Tab. vi.

With great ingenuity the Hebrews conceived that the will of God must be equivalent to His wish—that His wish must be the same as a command, and, consequently, that He could send His messenger from one spot to another in an instant; or, if He chose, He could go Himself and communicate personally, as He did with Abraham, Jacob, and Moses, and Joshua. For such a Being even light would be too slow (see Psalm xviii. 10; civ. 3, 4).

From a similar thought arose the stories which have found their way into our fairy mythology of "wishing caps" which would enable the bearer to pass in an instant of time, and wholly invisibly, from one part of the world to another. In oriental countries, a carpet or a coat was the carrying agent, whilst amongst the more clumsy story-tellers of Europe, a pair of boots was furnished, whose wearer could cover twenty miles at a stride.

In the plenitude of our prejudice we may smile at the caprice which invented the "wishing cap;" but if we reflect calmly upon the matter, we discover more depth of thought in this than has been shown in the formation of tales in which winged angels are introduced. The contrast will readily be recognized if we take a scene from "Fortunatus," and another from the Old Testament The former, by putting on a cap, could transport himself in a moment from Formosa to Great Britain. Whereas we learn, from Genesis xviii, that three angelic men took "a walk" from somewhere to Sodom, that they might see what sort of a place it really was. The hero in the fairy tale was not fatigued; the angels of the Hebrew mythology were glad to wash their feet, and to eat and drink, so as to recruit their energies (v. 8; Ps. lxxviii. 25.) A mythical tale like this demonstrates incontestably the mean condition of the story-teller, who does not furnish Jehovah even with a mule or ass, but makes Him go afoot.

We must, therefore, regard the theological contrivance which furnished angels with wings, as being a clumsy one; indicating superficiality, rather than profound thought, and emanating from human infirmity rather than divine inspiration or direct revelation. We shall see this more distinctly if we inquire into the ideas necessarily associated with wings.

The theologians who have furnished their ideal messengers with wings show, in the first place, that they have the idea of an air upon which the sails can strike—of muscular structures to move the pinions, and of the necessity for food to enable the motive power to be kept up. The idea of a winged angel, therefore, necessarily implies a belief in the presence of a solid material body moving through an aeriform fluid, resembling the atmosphere just above the earth's surface. That there really was this belief associated with celestial messengers we find in the Jewish scriptures, wherein it is stated, as if it were a common occurrence, that angels came to talk familiarly with men; as, for example, Gen. xviii, xix., xxxii.; and Judges i., where we are told that an angel came from Gilgal to Bochim, to deliver a statement, to the Hebrews, such as a silly girl at Lourdes asserted the Virgin Mary had come from Heaven to make to her; see also Judges xiii., and the book of Tobit.

That angels were, moreover, supposed to possess thews and sinews, we find from Gen. xxxii. 24-30, wherein we are told that some celestial being wrestled with Jacob, but could not prevail against him. In a previous chapter, although it is only in a dream, Jacob saw them mount and descend a ladder as if their wings—if they then had them—were useless.

We shall not now be far from the truth, if we affirm that winged messengers, envoys, or angels, can only be supposed to exist by individuals whose god is nothing more than a man without universal power and knowledge. To any one who believes God to be omnipresent, the idea of His having ambassadors, or vicars upon earth, is blasphemous.

The comparative coarseness of those minds which fabricated the notion of winged men, as celestial messengers, will be the more certainly recognised, if we examine into the pictorial conception which they have permitted, and still allow, to pass, for the embodiment of their idea. Let me, for example, invite the reader to cast his mental eye over the winged men-like bulls, &c., of Assyria and Babylonia; the winged genii of the ancient Egyptians; the winged soul and angel of Death of the Etruscans; the angels of ancient and modern Christian painters; and the pinioned heads which came from the walls to listen to the music of Saint Cecilia—according to Papal legends—and then to try to discover the locality of the muscular organs which are necessary to give movement to the wings. Everybody who has ever carved, at his dinner-table, a grouse, partridge, pheasant, duck, or other fowl, must be aware of the enormous mass of flesh which is associated with the wings. If we bare the breast and remove the pinion bones from any bird which flies—(it is necessary to make this proviso, for such as the dodo, the aptéryx, the ostrich, emu, and others, have wings which are only rudimentary, and not used for flight)—we find but a very meagre body remaining behind. Hence we see the necessity of furnishing an imaginary angel which has wings with muscles that will enable the pinions to be used; but in no pictorial representation of an angelic messenger do we ever find the ordinary figure of a man departed from, or any provision made for muscles to move the feathered organs. And we must notice, in passing, that it is monstrous to suppose that a man must become, in part, a bird ere he can be useful to a god!

Again, we recognize in the conventional form of angels a total absence of knowledge of natural history, of gravity, of force, &c. Let us, for example, imagine for a moment that the metaphorical wings are real ones used in flight. We see directly that they will only raise the individual perpendicularly into the air. The angelic human creature, even if his wings were—as they ought to do—to replace his arms, would still lack a tail, to use as a rudder to direct his flight. It is clear, then, that no one has seen an angel, and that those who have pretended to have done so, were deeply ignorant men. To make our observations upon this point somewhat more comprehensible, we may just refer to the fact that many individuals, misled apparently by the mass of ideal celestial men—or angels—which are to be seen in almost every cathedral or parish church in Europe, have conceived the idea that they could fly, if only they could contrive the necessary apparatus to append to their arms, legs, or both; in other words, many men have fancied that they could do better for themselves than nature has done for them. But a few minutes' calm thought would teach any one familiar with the composition of forces, that an attempt at the imitation of a bird's flight must be a failure in man. Let me show this by a simple observation: A bird extends its wings, and by a strong stroke towards its own body, rises into the air, though neither solid nor rigid, both wings and air have apparently been so. In imitation of this bird, we will now suppose that a man places himself, with arms outspread, like the letter T between two uprights, forming something like the letter U.

The individual would then be represented thus [J]—unlike the bird, his point d' appui would be solid, and his arms would be far more unyielding than feathers. Yet not one athlete in a million could spring upwards, so as to stand upon the summit of the U. Man's "pectoral muscles"—as physiologists call the mass of flesh below the collar bone and above the nipple—are intended to move the arm; the bird's pectoral muscles are intended to move the body. Cut off a man's arms and pectorals—the counterpart of the bird's wings and fleshy breast—and he has barely lost a tenth part of his weight; on the other hand, cut off the corresponding parts of a bird, i.e.t the pinions and the muscles which move them, and not a tenth part of the original weight is left behind. Speaking coarsely, we may then affirm that man's body is relatively about a hundred times heavier—air being the standard—than that of a bird, and his pectoral muscles, relatively to his body, a hundred times less in bulk. Consequently, even if a human being could, by muscular action, develop the bulk of his "pectorals," so that they should be relatively to the rest of his frame, equal to those of a bird, still his bulk would be so much more solid than that of the bird's bones, flesh, and feathers, that his power of flight would be a hundred times less. A man, with the exception of his lungs, is in health, solid or fluid, in every part of him; a bird's bones, on the contrary, are everywhere permeated by air cavities, which make them as light as pith or cotton wool. A pound of lead and a pound of feathers are certainly equal in weight, yet, if both are allowed to drop from a balloon, the first will reach the ground a long time before the second. In like manner, by contrivance, I could with my breath sustain an ounce of eiderdown in the air, although I am quite powerless to sustain, by like means, the same quantity of solid meat. I say nothing of the relative position of the shoulder-joint in man and birds—although the point is physiologically important.

Again, we may assert that the originators of the angelic mythology were absolutely ignorant of that which is called comparative anatomy. We have already expressed our belief that no one has a right to expect that people will believe in the reality of a man's knowledge respecting the unseen world, so long as he is palpably at fault in his notions respecting the visible creation. Consequently we assert that one who is careless as regards actual phenomena and ignorant of common truths, cannot be trusted in metaphorical, mythological, or divine lore.

A comparatively small amount of observation proves to us that amongst the highest classes of animal life, the wing is the counterpart of the arm or of the fore-leg. In the creature called the "flying squirrel," there is no pinion as there is in the "condor,"—there is simply an unusual development of skin which unites the fore and hind limbs much in the same way as the web unites together the toes of the goose or duck. In the bat, which, though a mammal, is allied, as regards its power of flight, to the birds, we find that the fore-leg is developed so as to make a bony frame on which a thin skin may be stretched, which is still farther strengthened by being attached to the hind leg. In the ordinary bird, the skin which we see in the bat and flying squirrel is replaced by feathers, which are longer, broader, and lighter than a fold of skin. The ordinary method, therefore, in which angelic beings are depicted does not associate them with the highest classes of animal life. Our modern artists are much more skilful in depicting Satan than in pourtraying Raphael, Gabriel, or Michael.

Our last remarks would be comparatively unimportant, were it not that the close observation which the moderns have given, to every thing connected with natural history, has shown us that there is a harmony throughout creation. No animals have noses on their backs, nor eyes in their hind legs. No insect—so far as I can remember—has a thick neck; nor has any mammal or bird a thin one, like the wasp, bee, or fly. As we imagine that it is proper to extend our knowledge rather by the lights which we have already attained, than by silly or hap-hazard guessing, so we think that it is better to investigate the subject of angelic forms by comparative anatomy, than by the dreams of divines, who probably have never studied any other subject than the best means of gaining influence over their fellow-mortals. We assert that there is not in all the creation, known to man, any creature with arms and legs—or their equivalents, legs and wings, or fore-legs and hind legs—which has, in addition, wings upon arms, legs, head, or back. In such a combination there is something monstrous. I confess that I could, if satisfactory evidence were given, credit the occurrence of a devil with a tail—of a centaur with a horse's body and a human head—but I could not possibly believe that Satan went about as a roaring lion, seeking whom he could devour in the dress of a bull with bat-like wings, as well as horns and hoofs; or that an angel of God approaches us in a form nearer to the scarabseus of Egypt than to the human form divine. Yet when we say that a pictorial angel approaches nearer to a beetle that revels in filth, than to an etherial essence which ought to be very close upon perfection, we are still far from precision. Ladybirds, cockchafers, and others of the class allied to the scarabseus that was almost deified in Egypt, have six legs, two wings, and two wing cases—ten means of locomotion in all. Butterflies, moths, and the like, have six legs and two wings. Consequently, if there be any design in creation, and angels have been created, they can only be regarded as the connecting link between the highest and the lowest classes of animal life.

If then, there be such a thing as harmony of design in Creation—if the Creator be not the author of confusion (1 Cor. xiv. 33)—if matter be material, and imponderable forces cannot be weighed or made otherwise recognisable by the senses, except by their effects—if the Almighty be omnipresent and omniscient, it is absolutely impossible for a thoughtful mind to believe in the existence of angels in any shape—whether material, immaterial, or essential. But this consideration forces us still further, and we feel compelled to ask ourselves, whether, with our minds constituted as they are, we can believe in, or understand any thing wholly immaterial? Whether we can imagine the existence, for, example, of "force" without matter?—a shape which is formless?—a form visible to the eye, yet wholly immaterial?

It seems to me to be desirable, at the present day, to call attention to this point in a particular manner, inasmuch as there are vast numbers, both in Europe and America, who believe in what is called Spiritualism, and are, in reality, as greatly the dupes of charlatans as were the disciples of Alexander the false prophet, whose history we gave in vol. II. The jargon of these pretenders is based upon the assertion in the Bible that there are spirits—the accounts of certain of these returning to the earth which they have quitted, or conversing with human beings in dreams, or in reality. But both they and their victims fail to see that a spirit, being without a material existence, cannot put matter into motion—it cannot produce the waves in the ether that cause those impressions on eye and ear which give the idea of sight and sound. We may best give our reader a glimpse of our meaning, if we compare a spirit to a picture projected on a sheet by a magic lantern. It is true that we can see it—yet we know that it is powerless to hear, to speak, to move; it cannot of itself even vanish. Yet there are many onlookers who, by a ventriloquist, can be made to believe that the picture speaks.

After prolonged observation, I believe that spirits, angels, demons, &c., have no reality except in the delusions of individuals whose diseased brains induce them to believe that they see apparitions and hear them speak. To this matter we shall probably return by and by.

We may now revert to a subject which we mentioned incidentally a few pages back—viz., the ideas which induced priestly inventors to depict the angels of their imagination in a particular form. Those who are familiar with the Bible, and not with any other book, and who decline to examine into the ways of God in the universe generally, will naturally reply to our strictures that the angels of the Jews were described in a particular fashion, because they were seen "in the visions of Elohim" (Ezek. i. 1; Dan. x. 5, 6; and Rev. i. 10-20). But this observation involves the idea that the angels which have appeared are so various in shape, that an individual who had seen and described one, could not enable another man to recognize a similar messenger when seen under another form. In Genesis xviii, xix., xxxii., and Judges xiii, angels assume the form of men; in Isaiah vi. they have six wings—one pair being used to cover the face, another to cover the feet, and another to fly with. To this it may be objected that what Isaiah described were seraphim; yet verse 6 shows that one of these, at least, was a messenger or envoy. In Ezekiel i. we find an apparent description of angels, or an envoy, which is so involved that it is most difficult to understand it. In Daniel x. an archangel is described as a brilliant man whose body was like the beryl—tarshish—a stone of a sea-green colour probably; or, possibly, a topaz, "whose eyes were like lightning, and whose arms and feet were like polished brass, and whose loins were girded with fine gold"—as if to conceal his sex—a characteristic which we find, from Matt. xxii. 30, angels do not possess. The writer's description must, therefore, be classed with that of afreets, genii, and the like, in the Arabian Nights tales. In Zechariah, again, we find an angel or envoys described (ch. i.)—(a), "as a man riding upon a red horse," having behind him "red horses, speckled and white" (v. 8); (6), as "four horns" (vv. 18,19); (c), as "four carpenters" (w. 20, 21.) Again, in chap, v., we find an angel in "a flying roll;" another in "an ephah;" another in a big piece of lead, and another in a woman, and still another in two beings of the same nature.

We can readily understand that some who are unacquainted with lunatics, would describe these portraitures as the result of insanity or hallucination; but those who are more conversant with persons of unsound mind will doubt whether any ordinary insane persons ever see or describe things which they have never met with. One or two, certainly, have wonderful flights of imagination, but these have been highly educated men of extensive reading, &c. In mania, when visions are seen, some person or other whose description has been read by the lunatic, or who has really been observed, appears—or something which the individual has seen depicted, or otherwise been told of, presents itself, or there is a strange jumble of reality and possibility—just as in dreams, comical, grotesque, or horrible combinations are common, and cause us no surprise. There is, however, too much consistency in the method in which angels are depicted, to enable us to believe that their form was decided by any lunatic or dreamer.

We scarcely can form an idea whether the Egyptians had a definite belief in angels, as the word is understood by moderns. With them, as it was with the Greeks, it is most probable that all beings which Jews and Christians alike would call angels, were designated "gods" or "demigods." Be this as it may, we find that the Mizraim had deities who wore wings. A round disc, apparently intended to represent the sun, two erected serpents to support it, and a long broad pinion on each side of the body, was symbolic of "the Supreme." The same may be said to be true of Assyria and Persia—only that in the symbolism of the two last, the serpents did not, generally, appear. In plate 30a, of Wilkinson's Ancient Egyptians, 2d series, a human figure is represented as winged, and before him is a five-rayed star. In plate 35 of the same book, Isis is represented as a nude woman, winged; the position of one pinion being such that it serves to conceal the body from the waist almost to the knees. In plate 36, "Athor" is depicted as being attended by a human-headed bird. On the other hand, in plate 39, where the gods are instructing the king in the use of the bow, the former are bird-headed men without wings. Whilst in plate 44, the soul of a dying man is represented as a human-headed bird with wings, arms, and legs. In plates 52, 53 of the same work, we notice specimens of winged serpents. In plate 63, Isis again appears as a wing bearer, and in this figure we find, as we ought to do, that the feathers of the pinions are attached to the arms of the goddess.

In Assyria, we may gather from the sculptures which have been preserved, that there was not any idea of angels being essentially different to gods. Indeed, it is very difficult wherever there is a polytheism in any form, to understand the distinction between a god and an angel Even in the religion which passes current as "the Christian," which acknowledges three gods as "coeternal together and coequal," we are distinctly told that one of the three "proceeds" from the father and the son (Athanasian Creed). The New Testament, again, repeatedly informs us that the son was "sent" into this world by his father to effect a special purpose—e.g.t "God sent his only begotten son into the world, that we might live through him" (1 John iv. 9; see also John iii. 16, 17; Matt. xxi. 37; Mark xii. 4; John v. 38; vi. 29; vii. 28, 29; and compare with John i. 33 and Mal.iii. 1-3). If, therefore, we regard the bearer of a message or an order from the supreme king as an "angel," Jesus of Nazareth was certainly one, inasmuch as he said that he was sent hither by the father of all; and the Holy Ghost was another, for we find John (xv. 26) stating that Jesus would send him to the earth—an assertion repeated in chap, xvi. 7—whilst in the fourteenth chapter of the same book we observe that the father was to send this comforter, who was to abide in this world for ever (v. 16). Indeed, the presumed identification of Jesus with the promised Messiah, "the prince" of Dan. ix. 25, shows the belief that he was one who was as much appointed to do a certain duty as was that "angel of death" which went out to destroy the Assyrian army (2 Kin. xix. 35).

With such indicated reservation, we notice that the angel which the gods sent to watch over various Assyrian kings is depicted almost invariably with wings. Now he is an archer, standing in a disc representing the sun, having wings below him; now he stands in front of the circle, the pinions and sometimes his body terminating in feathers resembling a bird's expanded tail. Then, again, the minor divinities bear wings, some of them no less than four (Bonomi's Nineveh, 2d ed. p. 157). It would be superfluous to linger over a description of the winged bulls with human heads, and the winged men with eagle or hawks' faces, which are so familiar to us in consequence of the researches of Layard and others. All alike bear testimony to the connection, in human celestialism, between birds and men. Nor can we reasonably doubt, that the idea intended to be conveyed by the inventor of the Assyrian composition which we refer to was, that the being, thus symbolized, was famous for strength like the bull; for rapidity of movement, like the eagle; and for wisdom, like a man.

There is to be found amongst the relics of the ancient Persians a symbol of an angel who was supposed specially to guard the king. This somewhat resembles that used at Nineveh. There are, however, many forms of it. For example, we find in Hyde's De Religione veterum Persarum (Table 6) a figure of a Persepolitan king, above whom, in the air, and quite distinct from the sun, stands a venerable man fully draped, standing upon what seems to be a large pine cone reversed, which is surrounded by clouds instead of being furnished with wings. The man thus depicted extends the forefinger of one hand to the sun, whilst with the other he holds a ring. In Table 6 Mithra is represented as winged, after the modern fashion of angels.

Hyde assures us, in chapter twelve, that twelve angels were recognized by the ancient Persians, in addition to those who presided over the months and days. One of these appears to be the same as the Greek Rhadamanthus, who sat as supreme judge in the invisible world, and apportioned to the dead their rewards or punishments. A second was equivalent to Neptune and ruled the sea, but he had also under his charge everything which related to generation, or production generally. The third was much the same as the more modern Lares and Penates, and superintended dwelling-houses and families. The fourth had a somewhat similar and subordinate office. The fifth was named after the stars, and had his kingdom in the south heavens. The sixth the learned author does not describe. The seventh really seems to be a sort of duplicate angel, called Haruts and Maruts, who were two naughty ones that rebelled, and are, according to some, imprisoned still in Babylon, being hung up by the heels. The eighth, Hyde is himself doubtful about, and does not describe. The ninth is the same as the German "storm-king." The tenth may fairly be styled the "angel of the victualling department." The eleventh is the giver of life, the opponent of Azrael, the minister of death; and the twelfth angel is one which we may call either by the name of "conscience" or "judgment" for he it is who approves or reprobates the works of man.

Though I quote from Hyde, I am somewhat doubtful of the value of his authority. He relies to a considerable extent upon the work known as the "Zend Avesta," and supposed to represent the tenets of Zoroaster and his followers. This book is, as I have mentioned, generally believed to be a genuine relic of antiquity by Continental scholars, though it is mistrusted by British orientalists, who regard it as a modern production founded upon Aryanism, Christianity, and Maho-metanism. In my judgment, my compatriots are right; and if it be proper to trust such a man as Sir H. Rawlinson in the matter of the "Avesta," one may be pardoned for believing with him that the book of Job was written by a Persian Jew, or translated by a Hebrew from a work in the time of Darius, or some other of the Achoemenidæ.

In Job angels are only once mentioned—viz., in chap. iv. 18, and then they are spoken of in such a way, that we are doubtful whether or not to regard the verse simply as a poetic metaphor. The idea which runs through the part of the chapter in which the passage occurs is this: "Job, you are suffering; the innocent do not perish; the righteous are not cut off; you have been very proper; man has nothing to say against you; but you are not right in accusing God of injustice; you doubtless have done some wrong, for even God's servants are not wholly trusted; they sometimes misbehave unknowingly, and his own angels are called perverse by him (Job iv. 18); you cannot expect to be better than they, and it is no shame to you to be in the same category as they are."

But it must be allowed that the words of the story—"There was a day when the sons of God came to present themselves before the Lord, and Satan came also among them; and the Lord said unto Satan, Whence comest thou? Then Satan answered the Lord, and said, From going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and down in it"—do really intimate a full belief in good angels and bad, who were not so much angels, messengers, or envoys, as subordinate powers resembling the barons of ancient England, the Paladins of Charlemagne, or the kings created by Buonaparte; amongst whom all were, so to speak, "good angels," except Bernadotte, of Sweden, who rebelled against the imperial thraldom, and became to his late master a modern satan. In whichever way we regard the subject of angels, amongst the Persians there is little doubt that the Iranian conception of God was wholly anthropomorphic, and that the Medians and their magi, as well as their Persian neighbours, acknowledged a "father of lies," who was antagonistic to the deity.*

         * Quintus Curtius informs us (Life of Alexander the Great,
         b. v. a ii.) that Darius had in Babylon a consecrated table,
         from which he used to eat; that Alexander began to be
         ashamed of his sacrilege in treading upon it—(it had been
         placed as a footstool for his imperial chair)—the sacrilege
         being against the gods presiding over hospitality, carved
         upon the table. These may be regarded as angels or
         otherwise, according to fancy.

Our knowledge of the angelic mythology of Babylonia is comparatively slight. The main thing which shrouds the subject in darkness is the difficulty which exists to distinguish between god, gods, and angels. If we could put any confidence in the book of Daniel, we should recognize therefrom that his "Nebuchadnezzar" most distinctly believed in the existence of angels, for in chap. iii. 25 he believes that he sees the son of God (bar elohim), and in verse 28 of the same chap. he remarks that "God hath sent his angel (malachah), and delivered his servants that trusted in him." Again, in the fourth chapter, in which he recounts a dream, he declares that he saw "a watcher and a holy one" (geer and kadesk) come down from heaven with a message to him. But Daniel is not an adequate authority upon ancient Babylonian beliefs. We are, in the absence of direct testimony upon this subject» driven to such evidence as is drawn from sculptured or other remains in ruins and on gems, and to cuneiform and other writings. George Rawlinson sums up his account thus—(Ancient Monarchies, vol. I, ch. vii., pp. 138, 9): "Various deities, whom it was not considered at all necessary to trace to a single stock, divided the allegiance of the people, and even of the kings, who regarded with equal respect, and glorified with exalted epithets, some fifteen or sixteen personages. Next to these principal gods were a far more numerous assemblage of inferior or secondary divinities, less often mentioned, and regarded as less worthy of honour, but still recognized generally through the country. Finally, the Pantheon contained a host of mere local gods or genii, every town and almost every village in Babylonia being under the protection of its own particular divinity."

The passage above quoted, which represents very fairly our existent knowledge, suggests to the thoughtful mind a comparison with other religions. In Greece there were many great gods and goddesses, and other divinities of less renown. In Rome there were gods for almost everything. But what these nations called "gods" the Hebrews called "angels," as we shall see shortly. In Christendom angels and gods have, as a general rule, been deposed, and "saints" have taken their places. Not only has every town a cathedral which is dedicated to some particular name—said to have been borne by a holy man or woman, whose aid in heaven is thus secured by his votaries upon earth—but every church in every parish, and every chapel in every church is set apart to a particular "saint." Still farther, every trade and every position in life has its tutelary patron in heaven, and secondary gods are as common in Papal districts as they were in the land of the Chaldeans. The philosopher cannot find a valid distinction between Ishtar, Venus, and Mary, Dionysus and Denis, and a host of other gods, saints, or angels.

Assuming that the minor gods of Greece and Rome, and those essences generally called "angels" are substantially the same order of beings, we find that the Babylonians had a great number of celestial envoys, viceroys, or messengers who ruled over the land and sea, the sky and storms, the thunder and the rain, crops, men, war, buildings—everything, indeed, was superintended by some one on behalf of the Supreme Ruler.

We might pause here to speculate upon the question whether there is any difference in kind between such a kingdom as Babylonia or Russia and the heaven believed in by the ancient Jews and the modern Christians. In all there is an autocratic sovereign who has a prime minister and secretaries of state, who keep his books and perform his will according to his bidding; under these again there are private clerks, who superintend wind and weather, rain and hail, snow and frost; governors of provinces, mayors, or prefects of cities; police, and so large a host of subordinates, that nothing, great or small, can be done which escapes the notice of one of the imperial envoys or ministers. The inventor of heaven, such as we know it, was certainly an admirer of 'centralization'. Those who desire to see the description of the unseen world modified are those who are opposed to an absolute monarchy, and who see in everything, everybody, and in all the world a proof of the presence of a supreme, omniscient, omnipresent, Creator, Ruler, or Governor.

Without going into an account of the Chaldean mythology, we may say that there is strong reason to believe, both from the nomenclature which has survived, and from such gems as are preserved from destruction, that every Babylonian, whether bond or free, was called after some deity, who was supposed ever afterwards to be his tutelary angel In modern times Roman Catholics hold a similar belief, and each parent imagines that by making selection, for his offspring, of the name of a particular saint, the latter can be induced to take the child under its special care.

The learned in papal mythology know that every saint is depicted in such a manner that none shall be mistaken. To such an extent indeed is pictorial contrivance carried, that the art of recognising a particular saint demands a special study. It is all but certain that the same custom prevailed in Babylon; but, as all the professors which taught the means of identification have passed away, we can only guess at the name or nature of the angel. Let us imagine, for example, what an archaeologist could make of the figure of Mary—of the bleeding or burning heart, two thousand years after all history of the mother of Jesus has passed away, like that of Ishtar has done. A curious figure, called heart-shaped, but really not so, is found placed on the central part of a woman's breast; from it flames appear to arise and blood to drop, and through it is a dagger, and this mass of imagery is put outside the body, and the dress is held open to enable any one to see it.

Without a key to the enigma, this is a mystery; but when the key is given, and the inquirer hears the explanation, he finds it so absurd that it is difficult to believe it. In like manner, when I see upon a Babylonian gem, copied as a vignette on the title-page of Landseer's Sabean Researches, a woman who has a beard, a necklace, two small breasts, from each of which she squeezes apparently a river of milk; over whose breastbone there is one large globe and two small ones, placed perpendicularly; who has a spider waist, and wears a skirt covered with pistol-shaped ornaments, I, not knowing whether the Chaldeans adored "our lady of the flowing bosom," cannot frame an idea as to the name of the saint, angel, virgin, or martyr which is depicted, or what may have been her peculiar duties, who she was, and what trade she patronised.

Whatever idea the Papal Church entertains respecting her canonised saints, one thing is remarkable, viz., that they are not portrayed as having wings. Each has an aureole of some sort round his or her head—a painter's contrivance for saying "This individual, who seems like a man or woman, is not a common but a divine creature." Francis of Assisi is, in addition, depicted with stigmata, or marks on his hands, feet, and side, which, though they resemble those made with nails in the case of Jesus of Nazareth, were doubtless, in the case of the "saint," made with the strong caustic called "spirit of salt" or other escharotic. We might speculate upon the state of mind which sees in the assumption of "stigmata" a greater evidence of faith than would be offered by the conversion of the arms into the pinions of Michael the archangel; but, as it is so much easier for even the most potent saint to make breaches in his skin, than to persuade feathers to grow on his arms, we do not think the task worthy of our care.

The Babylonians in this respect were predecessors of papal pagans. It is a rare thing to find on any of their gems a winged angel or genius. One such is depicted on the frontispiece of Landseer's Sabean Researches, which is birdlike both as regards the head and pinions; and four other winged creatures are given in Lajard's Culte de Venus. In two the figures are human headed, and combined with the body of a quadruped. At a later period of Babylonian mythology "grotesques" were introduced, apparently from Egypt.

It is not to be lightly passed by, that the symbol which represented the presence of the deity—which, if we may adopt a phrase, we should call "the angel of his presence" (see Exod. xxxiii. 14,15; Isa, lxiii. 9), is almost identical in the Chaldean and the papal religions, viz., a circle containing a cross, an emblem as common in our churchyards as in the capital of Nebuchadnezzar.

The resemblance between papal and Chaldean emblems and doctrines have repeatedly attracted the attention of theologians; and I am not far wrong in asserting that Protestants generally have identified "the woman" of Revelation xvii., spoken of as "Mystery, Babylon the Great, the mother of harlots and abominations of the earth," with Rome under the popes. For myself I do not care to express any opinion on the point, beyond a general dissent from the popular estimation of the dictum and its interpretation. At the same time I must declare that every year, over which my inquiries have extended, has imbued me more and more with wonder at the similarity between the ancient Babylonian and the modern papal religion. The two resemble children of the same parents, only that one is older than the other; and it requires but little penetration in an observer to trace in both, the lineaments of a grovelling superstition, united with a base priestly cunning.

In our own estimation the strongest evidence in favour of a belief in angels, of every degree, amongst the Chaldeans and Babylonians is the enormous development of angelic mythology amongst the Jews, who lived in the city of Nebuchadnezzar, and in those who migrated thence into Palestine subsequent to the period of the captivity. From indications, which are necessarily imperfect, we have formed the opinion that the Babylonians were astronomical students of great proficiency, from a very remote antiquity; that many of these professors turned their attention to what is called judicial astrology—i.e., they attempted to judge of future events by certain phenomena occurring in the heavens, and especially in the relationship between different planets and the various constellations.

As the planets wander through the sky, naturally they were regarded as the messengers of El—"the Supreme," who sent them to investigate the condition of groups of stars, many of which formed a sort of community that was unvisited by the Great King, for months together, and, in many instances, not at all.As the heliacal rising of one star seemed generally to be followed by good weather, and the corresponding rise of another intimated the reverse, it was natural that one should be regarded as an angel of happiness, the other as a harbinger of misery or death. So strongly rooted is this belief amongst some, that it even "holds its own" in educated England. The astronomer Royal is often asked to cast a nativity; and a living merchant of Liverpool does so yet, having confidence that his deductions suffice to prove their value.

The formula is "Astra regunt homines, sed regit astra Deus"—"The stars rule men, but God rules the stars." A guardian star, then, that is to say, the particular planet or other conspicuous celestial body which was "in the ascendant" at the period of the birth of each individual, was regarded in the same light as Christians esteem protective angels and Romanists estimate patron saints. There can be, we think, little doubt that the seven archangels are the seven planets known to the ancients, each of which had a day dedicated to it, and who thus originated the week of seven days. These amongst the Phoenicians were called the Cabeiri, or the powerful ones. In the conclusion at which we have arrived we are greatly strengthened by the discovery in Babylonian ruins of certain bowls; facsimiles and descriptions of which are given in Layard's Nineveh and Babylon, pp. 510-526. The inscriptions which have been translated appear to be forms of exorcism, or amulets, by which evil spirits are to be driven away; and reference is made in these writings to the devil, for example, under the name shida; and to Satan under the cognomen Satanah, evidently the same as the Satanas habitually used in the New Testament; also to Nirich, probably from a root like the Hebrew narag, "a noise maker or screamer." This creature, as I think, is the same as the "Satyr" of Isaiah xiii. 21, and xxxiv. 14, and represents or personifies those unseen but howling maniacs who wandered about at night (see Lilith and Satyr in my second volume). Another demon is called Zachiah, a cognomen which I cannot satisfactorily explain unless it is allied to Zachar, and indicates the power which, as the French would say, "can tie a knot in the needle" (nouer l'aiguilette) or "a levin brand." Another of the devils is called "Abitur of the Mountain," whose name resembling, as it does, the Jewish Abiathar, is more likely to belong to the good than the bad angels. Lilith is another demon still feared by the Jews, who employ charms against her to this day. She is supposed to be a sort of spiritual vampyre, and to suck the life out of infants and young people. These names of angels occur in the first inscription given by Layard; in the second we find Satan, associated with idolatry, curses, vows, whisperings, witchcraft, and Zevatta—a concealer, rider, or enchanter from root like this and answering to the fairy which steals away.

         "It was between the night and day
         When the fairy king has power,
         That I sank down in a sinful fray,
         And 'twixt life and death was snatcht away
         To the joyless Elfin bower."

         —Lady of the Lake, canto iv., stanza xv.

Another is named Nidra, which I take to signify vows made by supposed sorcerers. This demon is associated in the same line with Zevatta above described. Patiki is another bad influence, probably now, "a sword," for the charm has reference to freedom from captivity. Another devil is called Isarta, which I take to be a leader of banditti or marauders, from the Assyrian word (Furst's lexicon s.v. asar), "a leader, head or commander," and a word from a root like ta, "to drive," "to push forward," "to sweep away." We should call such an one "the demon of destruction."

In this same inscription two good angels are named, Batiel or Bethiail, probably a variant of Bethuel, "the residence of El," and Katuel or Kathuail, the executioner or sword of El, from katal, to kill; compare this with the expression, "Or if I bring a sword upon that land, and say, sword, go through that land, so that I put off man and beast from it" (Ezek. xiv. 17). In addition to these two angels another is mentioned who has eleven names, not one of which is written in full—e.g. SS. BB. CCC.

In a third inscription a devil is named "Abdi," which may be derived from the root abad, and be regarded as the same as the New Testament Abaddon (Rev. ix. 10)—the king of the slaughterers, bucaneers, rovers, &c. We can fancy that Negroes who are captured and sold in droves to foreigners, might imagine that Abdi was the devil which ruled the African slave drivers and Christian purchasers. This demon is associated with Levatta,—with tribulations, the machinations of the Assyrians, misery, treachery, rebellion; Nidra, with sorrows generally; and Shoq, which I take to be from a root like shuq, or shaqaq—i.e., "enemies thirsting for booty, rangers, bands of robbers." Compare—"And the spoilers came out of the camp of the Philistines in three companies" (1 Sam. xiii. 17). See also—He "delivered them into the hand of the spoilers" (Jud. ii. 14; 2 Kin. xvii. 20). Amongst the devils must, I think, also be classed Asdarta, which is clearly the same as the goddess Astarte, and she is closely associated with "the machinations of the Assyrians."

The good angels of this inscription are Barakiel, Ramiel, Raamiel, Nahabiel, and Sharmiel, over whose names we will not now linger, except to notice that the devils have names compounded with jah, whilst the good ones are derived from EL.

In the fifth inscription, amongst the bad things are mentioned evil spirits, both male and female, the evil eye, sorcery, and enchantments both from men and women, along with Nidra and Levatta. The good angels are called Babnaa, Ninikia, and Umanel, which I take to be intended for Wu, banahel=El builds, or "the strong one who establishes us;" nachaghel. El is powerful, or the Angel of Strength; and amanel, or "the fostering angel."

In some fragments the names of good angels found have been Nadkiel, Ramiel, Damael, Hachael, and Sharmiel, which we shall probably notice again subsequently.

We do not lay any particular stress upon the fact of the bowls, on which these inscriptions were found, having been dug up amongst Babylonian ruins; nor do we care to prove either that they were of Jewish or Chaldean origin. What we here desire to show is, that there existed in Babylon a full belief in the existence of evil and good influences which were invisible; that some individuals had, or were thought to possess, supernatural powers for harm, which could be counteracted by those who placed themselves under the protection of potencies supposed to be holier, wiser, or stronger than the evil genii From the method in which everything connected with witchcraft, magic, astrology, and the like, is spoken of in the Old Testament, and from the fact that slaves are much more likely to imitate their masters than conquerors to become pupils of the vanquished, we conclude that it was not the Hebrews who taught the Chaldees, but that the contrary was the case.

In the view thus enunciated we are confirmed by the manner in which old Jewish writers spoke of the nation that enslaved them—e.g., "Babylon, the beauty of the Chaldees' excellency" (Isa. xiii. 19); "All of them princes to look at after the manner of the Babylonians of Chaldea."... And "she (Jerusalem) doted upon them, and sent messengers unto them into Chaldea; and... she was polluted with them, and her mind was alienated from (or by) them" (Ezek. xxiii. 15-17); "It is a mighty nation, it is an ancient nation, a nation whose language thou knowest not" (Jerem. v. 15)—Jeremiah knew more about the people than Isaiah (see Isa. xxiii. 13). Habakkuk, again, speaking of the same people, says (chap, i. 6-10)—"The Chaldeans, that bitter and hasty nation... terrible and dreadful:... they shall scoff at the kings, and the princes shall be a scorn unto them." Such being the estimation of the Babylonians by Hebrew prophets, it is morally certain that the Jews would regard them with respect, admire, study, and copy them. To what extent the imitation went it is difficult to say.

When, therefore, we find that the descendants of Abraham, a patriarch whom a veneration for the ancient Babylonians induced the Israelite mythologists to represent as being a Chaldee; and those who were taught on the banks of the Euphrates, were spoken of in Rome about the time of our era, and shortly afterwards, as being almost synonymous epithets for sorcerers, astrologers, charmers, &c., we must conclude that the Mesopotamian was the master, the Palestinian the pupil. That the two were regarded as relatives we infer from Juvenal (sat. vi. 544-552)—"For a small piece of money the Jews sell whatever dreams you may choose, but an Armenian or Commagenian soothsayer promises a tender love;... but her (i.e., the lady who consults such folk) confidence in Chaldeans will be the greater."

But, ere we leave this portion of our Essay, we must notice one other piece of evidence of considerable value which is drawn from the New Testament. We find, for example, in Acts xxiii. 8, "The Sadducees say that there is no resurrection, neither angel nor spirit, but the Pharisees confess both." If we inquire into the origin of these sects—and we shall be greatly assisted in doing so by two very elaborate articles by the erudite Dr. Ginsburg, in Kitto's Cyclopaedia of Biblical Knowledge—we shall see reason to believe that the Sadducees were a sect who considered that they were not bound to believe any tenet as necessary unless they could find it distinctly enunciated in the Pentateuch. They resolutely declined, therefore, to accept as revelation such stories as had been adopted by the Hebrews from Babylonians, Persians, Greeks, and possibly from the Romans.

We might institute a comparison between the Sadducees and those whom we know as "reformers." The first acknowledged the authority of Moses alone, such as they found it in "the five books;" the second acknowledged the authority of Jesus and his apostles, such as they found it in the New Testament: the first rejected the commentaries of Rabbis; the second those of "the fathers." Both appealed to antiquity, and both traced to what we may designate paganism, heathenism, or foreign sources generally, a large portion of the current faith which they saw around them. The Sadducees regarded the doctrine of seraphic interference, and all the angelic mythology common in their time, as the fond fancy of those who desired to harmonize Judaism with Gentilism. The Reformers, in their turn, rejected all the fables of Papal anchorites, &c.; denied the power of any martyr to influence the condition of the living after their death; and generally opposed the saintly, as the Sadducees opposed the angelic, hierarchy. Individuals who sympathize with Luther, Calvin, and those of a similar way of thinking, may readily understand the Sadducees, whereas, those of what is called the "High Church," will give their interest to the Pharisees, who upheld the then mediaeval customs, &c.

It is probable that some will say, that Jesus of Nazareth, being the son of God, a deity incarnate, and consequently familiar with everything which goes on in the court of heaven; having adopted the angelic mythology; having conversed familiarly with the devil; having sent, at least, two thousand devils out of one man into a herd of swine; having gone down to hell, wherever that may be; and having preached to the spirits imprisoned there, whoever they may be or have been; having, still further, had an angel to comfort him; having had a conference with Moses and Elijah on a certain hill; having asserted that he had only to pray to his father to obtain the assistance of twelve legions of angels; and having also told us that every child has an angel who stands before the face of God—seeing these things, I say, one can imagine persons asseverating that all our current notions of angels, which are built upon the New Testament, must be true.

To this we rejoin, that these assertions beg the question. The philosopher affirms that the idea of angels is incompatible with that of an omnipresent God—that the belief of Jesus in an angelic mythology proves him to have had an anthropomorphic notion of "the Supreme," and, as a consequence, it follows that Jesus was nothing more than a Jew, although very superior to the generality of his countrymen, having possibly been taught by some Buddhist.* The bigot, on the other hand, can only scream out the formularies which the so-called orthodox provide for him. Johanna Southcote once made some folks believe that she was pregnant with a Messiah, and she had most enthusiastic followers; but neither argument nor rhetoric sufficed to beget the promised baby and, in like manner, no amount of declamation can convert an assumption into a fact. But of this truth most of our theologians appear to be ignorant, and, like the heathen with their litanies, they think that they will obtain their will by "much speaking."

         * It will be noticed by the reader, that the remarks in the
         text have reference to the supernatural stories which were
         interwoven into the biography of Jesus by those whom we call
         Evangelists. The bibliolaters must, however, stand or fall
         by the many legendary tales which pass current for truth. If
         Jesus, as an ordinary Jew, believed in angels—just as our
         king, James I., believed in the existence of modern witches
         —we cannot use his evidence to prove the existence of angels
         and devils, any more than the Christian laws against
         witchcraft demonstrate that old women and men sold their
         souls and bodies to Satan. If, on the other hand, we allow
         that the spiritual mythology of the New Testament is due to
         Pharasaic influence, all the testimony propounded in favour
         of the assertion, that Jesus was, in reality, "a son of
         Jehovah," crumbles away.

When summoned, a long time ago, to give evidence in a court of justice, the question was put to me—"Now, doctor, you have heard the symptoms from which the deceased suffered; do you believe that they were produced by arsenic?" Being doubtful about the propriety of the query in a court of law so prudish as ours is, I remained silent, and in an instant the judge, Baron Alderson, said—"I won't allow that question to be put or answered; you want the witness to take the place of the jury, and it shall not be done. You may ask the doctor, if you will, what are the symptoms produced by arsenic, when taken in a poisonous dose, and then it is the business of the jury to compare those, with such as have already been sworn to as occurring in the man before he died." This anecdote is frequently in my mind when I am composing an essay like the present. If I wish to convince the jury who reads my papers of the truth of a particular conclusion to which I have arrived, it is not enough for me to express my own opinions. I may assert, in the matter in question, that I am a skilled witness, and have closely investigated the subject, but it is open to any one to doubt my industry and to distrust my judgment; consequently, it is necessary for me to adduce evidence, as well as to draw deductions therefrom.

The hypothesis which I have formed, after a pretty extensive reading, is, that the belief in the mythology of angels which is current amongst Christians at the present time, and which is based upon a series of pretended revelations, said to have been made exclusively to Jews of ancient times, is, in reality, founded upon fancies of pagan priests or poets; and, as a corollary, I infer, either that our celestial mythology must be given up to oblivion, as being heathenish, or that we must abandon those claims to an exclusive inspiration which have been made for, and accorded by many to, the Bible. I have already described the ideas associated with angels in some ancient peoples, and I now propose to examine those of other nations with whom the Jews and Christians, directly or indirectly, came in contact.

The reader of ancient Roman history cannot doubt that the city on the Tiber was indebted to the Etruscans for all, or nearly all, of its early knowledge. It is probable that the original gods and goddesses of Rome were those of their northern neighbours, and everything which the Romans knew of augury was due to the priests of Etruria; consequently it is not unprofitable to inquire, as far as we can, whether these had any idea of beings such as we call angels. As we have not many available written remains of the remarkable people to whom we refer, we are obliged to be satisfied with pictorial and other relics which have survived until our days. Some of the scenes depicted on urns, vases, and walls, in tombs and elsewhere, are sufficiently explanatory of the subjects which the artist has desired to pourtray; others, on the contrary, can be interpreted in a variety of ways. Paying no attention to the latter, we may safely affirm, that the Etruscans had ideas upon the subject of angels very similar to our own. The form which their artists gave to them is precisely that which is current at the present day, except that, unlike the Christian, the Etruscan angels were of different sexes. Sometimes both males and females were draped from the neck to the feet, in other drawings they were partially or wholly nude. In the vast majority of cases each one possessed two wings that were attached to the back, behind the arms, precisely as they are in modern pictures; but in one very remarkable instance (plate 7, Description de quelques Vases Etrusques, par H. D. de Luynes—folio, Paris, 1840) the beings to whom we refer had each three pairs of pinions, the one attached to the shoulder blades, a second to the loins, and a third to the calves of the legs. These creatures correspond to our demons or imps of Satan, or the devils of the New Testament which were sent into a herd of swine.

Some of the winged Etruscan demons must be regarded as "angels of death," for they are represented as hovering in the air over individuals, such as Cassandra and Polynices, who are about to be sacrificed. One angel, who, as usual, Diaitized bv is spoken of by the Christian describer thereof as a goddess, is designated "Cunina." Her business was to look after and take charge of infants in their cradle. A being such as this, by whatever name we may designate her, cannot fail to remind us of the expression in the New Testament—"Take heed that ye despise not one of these little ones; for I say unto you that in heaven their angels do always behold the face of my father which is in heaven" (Matt, xviii. 10). In another Etruscan painting we find two angelic beings, fully draped, carrying a nude corpse apparently to the future or invisible state. These naturally remind us of the passage in Rev. xx. 1—"I saw an angel come down from heaven, having the key of the bottomless pit and a great chain in his hand." In some Etruscan paintings we have scenes which are supposed to indicate the preparation of a bride for the wedding ceremony. In these there are diminutive angels introduced, which are sometimes hovering in the air and sometimes seated on the edge of the bath; these are by the learned supposed to represent Cupid, Eros, Hymen, or Love, and they indicate the devout feeling, that an angel watches over those who contract marriage in an orthodox manner.*

         * Whether the Romans obtained all their inferior deities
         from the Etruscans, or whether the priests of the Eternal
         City in ancient times improved upon the mythology which came
         to them from their predecessors, just as the priests of
         modern Rome have expanded, without improving, the
         Christianised paganism which came to them, is a matter
         difficult to decide. But it is certain that the old Romans
         multiplied their "gods," as the modern ones have multiplied
         their "saints." Amongst the former were many curious
         deities, who presided at the wedding of young people, some at
         the public ceremony, and others at the private rites.
         "PRema" was the angel of quietness, whose business it was to
         see "ne subacta virgo se ultra modum commovens semen a vulva
         ejiceret." "Subigus" was another angel or demigod, whose
         duty it was to see that the consummation should take place
         in an appropriate manner—lovingly, pleasantly, and
         peacefully. There was another—Pertunda—of whom Augustine
         (Civ. Dei, vol. 9) remarks—"Si adest dea Prema ut subacta se
         non commoveat quum prematur, dea Pertunda quid ea facit?" In
         modern times the Papal saints, Cosmo, Damian, Foutin, and
         sundry others, have had the special duty assigned to them to
         make the husband fit for his marital duties.

That the absence of such a spirit was looked upon as unlucky we gather from an expression in Propertius (b. v. el. 3) in which a wife, whose husband has been obliged to leave her, and go to a distant war, when bewailing her destiny, amongst other references says—"I wedded without a god to accompany me." This calls to memory the statement in Hebrews i. 14, wherein, after speaking of angels, the writer asks—"Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation?"—a sentence which implies the idea that those who are not heirs of salvation have not angels which minister for them. The doctrine was certainly not exclusively Christian. Of this any one may assure himself by referring to Eccles. v. 6—"Neither say thou before the angel that it was an error; wherefore... should God destroy the works of thine hands?"

Again, we find an angel seated between two young folk of opposite sexes, and archaeologists tell us that the winged creature thus figured is a nuptial god—one whose business is to induce appropriate couples to meet, to love, and to marry. Such a celestial match-maker was the Jewish Raphael, who, though "one of the seven holy angels, which present the prayers of the saints, and which go in and out before the glory of the Holy One" (Tobit xii. 15)—yet condescended to conduct Tobias a long way to meet Sara, and instructed him how he could marry her with safety, and defeat a devil.

Amongst other individuals, in the Etruscan mythological paintings who are winged, are the following, which are named thus by the authors who describe the vases, &c., whether rightly or wrongly it is not necessary for me to prove:—Janus; Furina, the goddess of thieves; Mercury, the messenger of Jupiter and the patron of robbers; Vacuna, or Desideria, or Venus, the goddess of indolence, desire, or love; Hymen, the angel or god of marriage; Cupid, the god of love; Victory, Bacchus, Silenus, Dryads, Calliope, Tempest, Fame, Proserpine; Iibitina, the goddess of funerals; Venus, infera, Nemesis, or fate; Death, life, Charybdis, The Furies, Geryon, Justice, Peace, Iris, and Diana. On such a subject the reader may consult with advantage Augustine (de Civitate Dei, b. vl. c. 9); Arnobius (Adversus Gentes, b. iv. c. 7); and Tertullian (Ad Nationes, b. ii. c. 11).

We may now refer to a remarkable series of drawings, representing the funeral of Patroclus, described by Homer, which were discovered in the Etruscan sepulchre of the Tarquinii near what once was Vulci and is now "Ponte della Badia," in the year 1857, and which is described in Noël des Vergers L'Etrurie et les Etrusques, and in Corpus Inscriptionum Italicarum (Turin 1867), the latter of which I use as my authority. In one of the scenes we find depicted the sacrifice of the Trojan youths at the grave of Patroclus. The artist has not left to the fancy of the observer the identification of his figures, but has written in Etruscan letters the modified names of the actors. Beginning from the right hand, we find Ajax Oileus, and next to him a naked Trojan youth, whose hands are bound behind his back, and who is guarded by Telamonian Ajax. Behind and besides him is Charon, and in front of the latter is another Trojan youth, nude, seated on the ground, and receiving his death-wound from Achilles. Behind the latter stands a winged, draped, tall female figure, whom at one time I took to be the glorified soul of Patroclus; but, having seen a similar figure on other Etruscan designs depicting human sacrifice or death, and finding over the head of this one the word fanth, vanth, or fano—according to the value which we assign to the digamma or F and O—which is, I think, equivalent to the Latin Fatum, fate, &c., we must regard the figure as resembling Azrael—"the angel of death." Besides and behind her stands a draped man unarmed, having a fixed countenance of settled melancholy, and regarding without a shade of exultation the death of the young Trojan whom Achilles slaughters. Over his head are the words hinthial patrucles, which is believed to signify "the shade of Patroclus." The last figure in the group is Agamemnon.

This and the other sculptures in the tomb are extremely interesting to the archaeologists, firstly, because they bear evidence of a very superior style of art; secondly, because they testify to the antiquity of Homer's Iliad, and its popularity in other nations than the Greek. They show, moreover, that the wealthy men amongst the Etrurians were not ignorant of the Grecian language, or rather literature, although they had difficulty in adapting the Hellenic words to their own alphabet; lastly, they ought to be especially valuable to us inasmuch as they demonstrate the existence of a belief in ancient Italy of the resurrection of the body, and of the existence of angels precisely the same in shape as those which pious Christians delight to see in their churches, and in their manuals of devotion. It is worthy of notice that upon some Etruscan vases in the museum at Munich there are angelic warriors covered with armour—a winged female carrying a caduceus, and winged horses—like Pegasus, and probably like those seen by Zechariah, the Hebrew vaticinator.

We consider it best to omit making any remarks respecting the ideas entertained about angels by the Phoenicians, for we have scarcely any information about their mythology beyond the names of certain gods and goddesses. It will be more profitable to pass on to the Greeks, and inquire into the general system of their theological belief. This is, we think, a matter of some importance, for this people, as victors and masters, came into contact with the Jews in the time of Joel, about b.c. 800; and if any captive Hebrews came back from Grecia (see Joel iii. 6), we believe that they would naturally bring back with them much of the Hellenic lore of their conquerors. The reader must not be carried away here with the once popular notion that everything which was found in heathendom, which resembled something biblical or Jewish, came of necessity from scriptural or Israelitish sources. The reverse is much more likely, for the Hebrews in old times are described by their historians and preachers as hankering after novelty—"going whoring after other gods," as the Bible has it. They, on the other hand, were encouraged to keep themselves aloof from others, and were never a missionary nation; nor, had they been so, were they sufficiently honourable or wealthy, as a race, ever to command respect. They were, indeed, generally despised by the people round about them, who would no more think of adopting Jewish fables than we should care to learn theology and cosmogony from African negroes.

If we endeavour to reduce Grecian mythology to its simplest expression, we find that it consisted of a belief in a creator—grand beyond conception, and one whom the mind could not conceive, nor pencil nor the chisel depict. Under him there was thought to be a host of minor deities, who agreed, more or less, amongst themselves, each having a particular department of creation to preside over, or a definite function to perform. Jupiter, for example, had the air and the heavens generally under his management; Neptune superintended the sea; Rhea, or Gaia, or Gee, was the goddess of the surface of the earth; and Pluto had the management of the interior of the globe and of those who were buried therein. If corpses were unburied, they did not come under his immediate cognizance. Then, as it was quite possible that one deity might be counteracting another, as, indeed, they are represented to have done during the Trojan war, another god was necessary to be a medium of communication between the others, and Mercury became the messenger, or go-between.

Below the major gods was an infinity of smaller ones, who presided over physical and moral matters. There were, for example, wood and tree nymphs; Dryads and hamadryads—gods of rivers, such as Simois and Scamander. Pan presided over husbandmen; Hermes, over thieves, &c. Others, like Eros, fulfilled the duty of bringing the sexes together. Hymen secured them in marriage, and Venus had the duty of insuring connubial happiness, whilst Lucina's business was to bring the offspring of the marriage into the world—with as little pain or danger as possible. Then, again, Fortune brought good luck. The "furies" brought evil, and the "fates" ruled the destiny of mortals.

Against some of these gods others rebelled. For example, there were the Titans, the sons of Heaven and Earth (Cælus et Terra), who were all of gigantic stature, and may be said to be identical with the giants spoken of in Gen. vi. 2-4, as being the offspring of the sons of God and the daughters of men. These Titans were much disliked by their father, and confined in the bowels of the earth, or, as we should say, in Hell; but their mother relieved them, and they in turn revenged themselves upon their progenitor. When Jupiter succeeded to Cronos or Saturn, the giants, the sons of Tartarus and Terra, or Hell and Earth, united with their half-brothers, the Titans, and attacked Olympus, and its gods, in dismay, assumed disguises and fled into Egypt—a rare spot, whence also came as history tells us, the founder of Christianity and the doctrine of the Trinity. To regain his position, Jupiter found a man—a son of his own—whom he had begotten by lying three nights in the heart of the earth, or, as the fable has it, in the arms of Alcmena—Hercules by name, to attack the allied monsters, and thus with the aid of a mortal the gods became victorious. Just as in more modern days the divine mission and position of Jesus of Nazareth and Mahomet of Mecca, have been determined by the arms of human warriors. The power of men in heaven is wonderful, considering how great is their weakness upon earth! It is probable, that to the Greeks, Milton owed his ideas of Paradise Lost.

According to the ordinary ideas of angels, the gods, demigods, goddesses, genii, and the like, were essentially the same amongst the Hebrews as the archangels and inferior hierarchy are in modern christian mythology. We shall the more readily see this if we inquire into the ideas of the Greeks respecting demons. "The latter were regarded as spirits which presided over the actions of mankind, and watched over their secret intentions." Many Greek theologians thought that each man had two, the one good, the other bad. These sprites could change themselves into any form, and at death the individual was delivered up to judgment by these companions, who testified to his actions during life. Socrates often spoke of his own peculiar "spirit." Not only were these creatures supposed to influence men, but they were also believed to guard places, and a genius loci was the same as the God of Ekron, or any other locality.

It is almost impossible for a thoughtful man not to compare with the Greek ideas those held by moderns. We hear in familiar discourse, and read in popular books, about a good angel and a bad one. God is said to use both (see Ps. lxxviii. 49, and 1 Kings xxii. 21, 22.) Many, too, of the readers of Sterne will remember the remarks which he makes about a recording angel who was obliged to register an oath, but who contrived to blot out the entry with a tear (com. Mal. iii. 16.) As we have already adverted to the belief of Jesus that every child had an angel, who is always in the presence of. God, we need not remark again upon the matter.

But though the Grecian gods and demigods were the counterparts of the archangels and lesser powers of the Jews and Christians, they were not pictorially depicted, as they were in other places, like winged men or other creatures.

Arnobius, for example, in Advenus génies, when writing about the divinities of the heathen, remarks, that they are so like ordinary men and women, that the artist has to resort to some contrivance to show that any offspring of his brush, or of his chisel, is a god or goddess. A painter, he observes, will select the finest young women he can discover—or the handsomest prostitute in his country, and from one maiden, or from the collective charms of many, will paint a lovely woman and style her Venus; yet she is only a courtezan after all. His remark is a certainly true one. Jupiter is never represented otherwise than as a man, nor does Minerva ever figure except as a woman. None of the greater gods of Hellas are winged like the tutelar gods of the Assyrians and Persians were. Even Hermes, though he does bear pinions, does not carry them in the usual form. Instead of having powerful wings behind his arms, like the Gabriel or Michael of Christian mythology, he has little nippers attached to each side of a cap, of a pair of socks, and of a curiously-shaped wand—all of which he can put off when he pleases, or don when he is sent with a message. Jupiter's thunders bear similar wings. But such minor deities, or devils, as Eros or love; Hymen or marriage; Fame, or victory; Aurora, or day-break; the winds, the Genii, the Gorgons, the Furies, the Harpies, Iris, Isis, Hebe, Psyche, and even Pegasus—a wondrous horse, are winged with pinions which resemble those of the eagle.

If we now pause for a moment to compare one thing with another, we readily see that Hymen may fairly be described as the angel of the covenant of marriage, and that Mercury is identical with Raphael. The "genius loci," the "dryad" or "hamadryad," is the counterpart of the cherubim guarding the ark and the mercyseat of the Jewish temple. Apollo is the angel in the sun (Rev. xix. 17.) Neptune is "the angel of the waters" (Rev. xvi. 5.) Nay, we may—indeed we must go further, and affirm that either the angel Gabriel, or "the power of the Highest," which, we are told in Luke i. 26, 35, overshadowed Mary, the espoused wife of Joseph, is a perfect counterpart of the Hellenic Jupiter who overshadowed Alcmena.

Both produced a being equally celebrated—for we may fairly assert that Hercules was believed in by as many individuals as have faith in Jesus. For ourselves, we do not credit the myth of the Hellenists; of the very existence of a Hercules we are profoundly incredulous. Yet we do not doubt for a moment that Jesus of Nazareth lived as a man upon this earth, and founded, with the subsequent assistance of Paul, the religion which is called Christian. But of the supernatural conception of Mary and of her impregnation by a deity we are intensely sceptical.

Of the theology of the Romans in the times prior to, and somewhat subsequent to, our era, we need say little. It resembled both the Etruscan and the Greek at the first, and subsequently it was modified by the Egyptian and by the Persian. But it was in Rome, whilst pagan, that the present pictorial type of angels was perfected (see Plates ix. to xiii, Lajard's Culte de Venus), in which allegorical figures, from old Roman bas-reliefs, precisely like modern angels, are represented killing the Mithraic bull. I may also add, in passing, that the crozier borne by Romanist bishops is a reproduction of the Etruscan lituus, the augurs' or diviners' staff of office.

The Roman nation, like the Papist and Peruvian religions, was omnivorous, and not only venerated the old gods of the soil, but adopted new divinities eagerly. Whoever chose to import a new deity, and a novel style of worship was hailed, patronized and enriched, much in the same way as at London during recent times, Mesmerists, "spirit rappers," "cord-conjurors," clairvoyants, male and female, spiritualists like Home, very High Churchmen, and many other classes of a similar stamp have been encouraged. As in Athens, we are told that "the Athenians and strangers which were there spent their time in nothing else but either to tell or to hear some new thing" (Acts xvii), no matter whether the novelty was religious or otherwise, so it has been elsewhere. London really, and Rome metaphorically are constantly adopting new ideas, some highly commendable and philosophical, others quite the reverse. Amongst the latter, we may mention that which professes that a certain man can, like Jesus is said to have done, heal by a touch. This assertion, however, is only sparsely credited on the Thames. Far more general is the belief which professes, that an Ecumenical Council can by a vote make one man and his official successors "infallible."

We cannot pass by this subject without remarking that instability in religion is evidence of infidelity; and the adoption of new tenets is a proof of the low estimation in which old ones have been held. Even the new, or Christian dispensation, as it is called, is founded upon the insufficiency of the old or Jewish covenant, which, by those who adopt the one, is a confession that they believe the other was imperfect and therefore not of God. Consequently, when we find a "church," like the Roman, habitually patching its old clothes, we conclude that its leaders are dissatisfied with them and desire better. A lover who finds his mistress perfect neither seeks nor wishes to change her for another; nor endeavours to induce her to modify her attire until he is dissatisfied therewith. When he insists upon an alteration it is because his ardent love has faded. The philosopher may see clearly why certain prelates desire to have some infallible man to appeal to—for it is easier to find out the opinion of one individual than to harmonize the contradictory hypotheses of fifty dogmatical or authoritative writers. Yet the same man will not fail to see that such a proceeding, whilst it strengthens the hold of the church upon the weak-minded, cuts it adrift from the strong. The policy is not altogether bad, for it seeks to bind closer those who, whilst wearing the chains of captivity, regard them as ornaments. But all those who adopt such tactics ought, boldly and unequivocally, to withdraw from the rank of truth-seekers, and of envoys of that God who is not "the author of confusion but of peace."

We may now proceed to the consideration of the angelic mythology of the Old and New Testaments. In our inquiry we shall endeavour to arrive at the ideas contained in the words which are used, and not content ourselves with simple quotation. There is strong reason to believe that Christians in general rarely examine into the real signification of words which they are taught to use, or which, from some fancy or other, they commit to memory. They imagine—if they think on the subject at all—that to repeat a text or a creed is to perform an act of faith, which, in itself, is praiseworthy and a good work. Such do not, in any appreciable degree, differ from the Thibetans, described by the Abbé Hue, who perform their devotions by turning round upon their axles certain cylinders, upon which some prayers are engraved. Not only these Asiatics, but Europeans of large mental calibre are often contented with vague ideas; and when they are challenged to support "the faith which is in them," show that they have never yet examined it. If, for example, they are asked how they can believe in the truth of such passages, "I have seen God (Kohim) face to face" (Gen. xxxii. 30); "The Lord (Jehovah) spake unto Moses face to face as a man speaketh unto his friend" (Exod. xxxiii. 11); "Moses whom the Lord knew face to face" (Deut. xxxiv. 10), and the opposite one, "Thou canst not see my face, for there shall no man see me and live" (Exod. xxxiii. 20)—the sole reply rendered is that the first passages are figurative, passing by entirely the comparison in the second, which asserts that God talked with Moses as one friend with another.

As a farther illustration of my meaning, I may point to the glibness with which Christians talk, sing, and listen to discourses about blood. If people really gave heed to what they chant, and to the words of their ministers, they would really be puzzled to find a distinction between the god whom they worship and that idol deity of Mexico, which called constantly for the hearts and the blood of his worshippers. "Without shedding of blood is no remission" (Heb. ix. 22) is a dogma that puts the Europeans' God on the same level as the deities worshipped in pagan Africa, New Zealand, and by the Anthropophagi generally.

In like manner, if ordinary people are asked to reconcile such passages as the following—"Who maketh his angels spirits;" "A spirit hath not flesh and bones as ye see me have" (Luke xxiv. 39)—with a host of others, in which angels are said to have appeared, talked, and acted like men, they allege that "much of the phraseology of the Bible is metaphorical." But if it be granted that the language is metaphorical, must we not equally believe that the facts referred to are mythical; and if so, how much of the so-called inspired book can we trust? If metaphor and figure-imagery are cities of refuge for theologians, those who fly to them must remember, that there they must remain and live therein all their days; they cannot be citizens of the world, and yet never leave their asylum: if, for them, facts are fictions, by parity of reason fictions are facts.

If, when an individual, said to be a prophet, and, as such, the mouthpiece of the Holy Ghost or of Jehovah, tells us that he saw and talked with an angel, who imparted to him such and such information, we are bound either to believe the whole statement or to reject it as valueless, quoad revelation. If the man did see an angel, and that angel spoke, it must have been material; and if material, it could not be a spirit, and if not a spirit, it was not an angel.* If to this it be answered that individuals do see what they deem to be spirits—just as many a drunken man avers that he sees "blue devils," we grant it at once. We go still farther, and state that we know individuals in full possession, apparently, of all their senses, who see, occasionally, men, women, horses, dogs, and other things, which have no more existence than the figures which appear to us in dreams. Such men not only see imaginary beings, but they hear conversations or speeches which have no reality in them. But we cannot for a moment allow that such delusions of the senses are sterling, and such utterances, messages from the Almighty delivered by angels. To be logical, therefore, the theologian must either accept the stories told in the Bible about angelic beings as literally true, to the exclusion of all metaphor, or believe that every thing tainted by such celestial mythology is entirely of human invention.

         * The authority for this is Ps. civ. 4; Heb. L 7, 14,—"Who
         maketh his angels spirits;" "Are they not all ministering
         spirits?"

As an illustration, let us consider two episodes in the history of Elisha. We find in 2 Kings ii. 11, that a chariot of fire and horses of fire, appeared to this prophet, and parted him from Elijah, with whom he was walking, and carried the latter away into heaven; and we see in 2 Kings vi. 17, that Elisha's servant could really see a multitude of chariots and horses of fire round about his master. We must also remember that "the chariots of the Lord are thousands of angels" (Ps. lxviii. 17; see also Ps. xxxiv. 7.) Now these were, or were not, realities—if the chariots and horsemen existed, then we infer that some sort of stables and ostlers exist in heaven; if none such exist, then the chariots and horses could neither have been seen, nor have separated the two prophets.

It may be urged that supernatural beings do exist for those who can see them, and for no other; just as the angel was seen by Balaam's ass thrice (see Numbers xxii. 22-33) before he was recognized by her master. But this observation is worthless, for it amounts to nothing more than this—viz., that the persons seen in dreams exist for the dreamers and for no one else; but it in no way proves the reality of the asserted apparition.

It would be as useless to discuss, at this point, the actuality of what are called "spectres," as of other things named fairies, pixies, gnomes, or sprites. Of the existence of such there is abundance of evidence; and for hundreds of years there was not a human being who did not believe in them. But there was even stronger proof that the world stood still, and the sun went round it, and during untold centuries all who thought on the matter believed the statement. Yet in these days all the testimony is regarded as worthless in the presence of the stern facts of science; and ghosts are only believed in by such as write treatises upon squaring the circle, perpetual motion, and the plane figure of the earth. We shall take up the subject at length in our next chapter.

If we were to follow the bent of our inclination, we should now endeavour to prove that the Jews had no idea of an angelic mythology prior to the Babylonian captivity, and that they had no distinct literature prior to the Grecian and Edomite captivity referred to in Joel, Amos, Obadiah, and Micah, except possibly such records and written laws as may be styled "annals" or "year-books;" and, as a consequence, that all parts of the Old Testament in which angelic beings figure are comparatively modern, having been fabricated after the long sojourn of the Jews in Babylon. But to carry out this intention would require a treatise rather than an essay, and I must content myself with saying that I believe it to be affirmed by all Hebrew scholars, that up to the time of Nebuchadnezzar—or Hezekiah—the sole unseen power recognized by the Jews was Jehovah alone. They did not believe either in angel or devil What their ideas were we may shortly describe*:—

         * Long after the remark in the text was written, and long
         before it was in type, Dr. Kalisch, in his second part of a
         commentary on Leviticus, published his views upon the point
         referred to. When I can refer my readers to so masterly a
         composition as his essay upon Angels in the Jewish theology,
         it is seedless for me to say much on the subject. I may also
         refer those who are interested in the matter to a work
         entitled The Devil: his Origin, Greatness, and Decadence
         (Williams & Norgate, London, 1871—small 8vo., pp. 72). My
         essay supplements these, and in no way clash therewith.

1. Angels were spirits, being also ministers (Heb. L 7.) They were a flaming fire (Ps. civ. 4); compare Jud. xiii. 20, and Acts vii. 35—that is, spirits are made of a combustible material which is, however, incombustible!

2. They could assume the form of men, and were identical with God (see Gen. xviii. 19; Tobit, and Luke i.): that is to say, they were masters, yet servants—the sender and the sent at the same time!

3. Their faces were terrible (Jud. xiii. 6); but they also shone (Acts vi. 15) and yet they were so good-looking and handsome that the Sodomites fell in love with them as Jupiter did with Ganymede (Gen. xix).

4 One was the superintendent of destruction, and was visible on one occasion to David (2 Sam. xxiv. 16, 17), to Oman, his sons, and to the elders of Israel (1 Chron. xxi. 16-20.) His weapon was a sword (ibid.) He certainly must have had flesh and bones. It would be an interesting matter to inquire whether the sword was as spiritual as the angel was.

5. One angel was outwitted by a donkey (see Numb. xxii. 22-33.) Yet this angel was God (comp. Numb. xxii. 35, and xxiv. 4, 15,16). It is marvellous to me how any one can read this history of Balaam and his ass, and notice how the animal turned God from His purpose (see chap, xxii. 33), and yet believe the story to be of divine origin!

6. They are made of light (Luke ii. 9), yet can talk the vernacular, and can be counterfeited by Satan (2 Cor. xi. 14); but how he manages it, and whether he then ceases to be a roaring lion or a fallen angel "reserved in everlasting chains under darkness unto the judgment of the great day" (Jude 6), is a matter for surmise.

7. One of them fought with the Devil, and kept his temper (Jude 9.) Of the language used in the disputation we do not know; nor can we tell how the two recognized each other.

8. Some of them are guilty of folly (Job. iv. 18), and some sinned—how, one does not know—and were cast down to hell, and delivered into chains of darkness. It is fitting that beings who have no flesh and bones should be bound by fetters that have no reality (2 Peter ii. 4).

9. Some were discontented with their home and were punished (Jude 6); but where their original habitation was, or why it was regarded as so miserable that another place was desired, is a mystery.

10. They have food provided for them (Ps. lxxviii. 25), and they eat like men (Gen. xviii. 8; and xix. 3), consequently angels must have flesh, blood, and a stomach to digest victuals. Sometimes instead of eating food they order it to be burned, and the smoke from the viands serves as a vehicle to heaven (Jud. xiii. 19, 20).

11. Their number is twenty thousand (Ps. lxviii. 17).

12. They are chariots (ibid), yet they walk and get their feet dusty (Gen. xviii. and xix. 2; compare Jud. ii. 1; vi. 12); the chariots are of fire, and so are the horses (2 Kings vi. 17); but they are also clouds (Ps. civ. 3).

13. They are taught military discipline and arranged in "legions" (Matt xxvi. 53).

14. They are sexless (Mark xii. 25), yet were men when they appeared to Abraham, Sarah, and the Sodomites (Gen. xviii, xix.).

15. They are liable to do wrong, and will be judged by men, some time or other (1 Oor. vi. 2, 3). As in this passage the angels are put below the saints, and in Gen. xviii. and xix., it is clear that Elohim and Jehovah were angels, it follows that holy men, when raised, will be superior to the power that gave them heaven!

16. Though sexless, the angels, or sons of God, may be captivated by the beauty of woman, and engender giants with them in a very human fashion (Gen. vi).

17. They are very sensitive respecting the hair of women, and require it to be covered in worship—at other times they probably are not so particular. Although they minister upon those who are heirs of salvation (Heb. i. 14), they might be tempted from their business, if they were to see a pretty snood in golden tresses hid (1 Cor. xi. 10).

18. Every child has an angel, or rather angels, to look after it (Matt, xviii. 10), which leads to the belief that the number of angels has increased since the sixty-eighth Psalm was written, when there were only 20,000, and perhaps a few more.*

         * The words of the christian father, Tertullian, upon this
         subject are so very apposite to our subject of angels, that
         I am tempted to quote them—Clark's edition, vol. i. p. 487-
         8.

         Speaking to the heathens, he says—"And you are not content
         to assert the divinity of such as were once known to you,
         whom you heard and handled, and whose portraits have been
         painted, and actions recounted, and memory retained amongst
         you; but men insist upon consecrating with a heavenly life,
         i.e.t they insist on deifying, I know not what incorporeal
         inanimate shadows and the names of things, dividing man's
         entire existence amongst separate powers, even from his
         conception in the womb, so that there is a god (read
         angel) Consevius, to preside over concubital generation,
         and Fluviona to preserve the infant in the womb; after these
         come Vitumnus and Sentinus through whom the babe begins to
         have life and its earliest sensation; then Diespiter, by
         whose office the child accomplishes its birth. But when
         women begin their parturition Candelifera also comes in aid,
         since child-bearing requires the light of the candle; and
         other goddesses there are (such as Lucina, Partula, Nona,
         Décima, and Alemona) who get their names from the parts they
         bear in the stages of travail There were two Carmentas
         likewise, according to the general view.   To one of them,
         called Postverta, belonged the function of assisting the
         birth of the malpresented child; whilst the other, Prosa or
         Prorso, executed the like office for the rightly born. The
         god Farinus was so called from his inspiring the first
         utterance, whilst others believed in Locutius from his gift
         of speech. Cunina is present as the protector of the child's
         deep slumber, and supplies to it refreshing rest. To lift
         them when fallen there is Levana, and along with her Rumina
         (from the old word ruma, a teat). It is a wonderful
         oversight that no gods were appointed for clearing up the
         filth of children. Then to preside over their first pap and
         earliest drink you have Potina and Edula; to teach the child
         to stand erect is the work of Statina (or Statilinus),
         whilst Adeona helps him to come to dear mamma-, and Abeona
         to toddle back again. Then there is Domiduca, to bring home
         the bride, and the goddess Mens, to influence the mind to
         either good or evil. They have likewise Volumnus and Voleta,
         to control the will; Paventina, the goddess of fear;
         Venilia, of hope; Volnpia, of pleasure; Praastitia, of
         beauty. Then, again, they give his name to Peragenor, from
         his teaching men to go through their work; to Consus, from
         his suggesting to them counsel. Juventa is their guide on
         assuming the manly gown, and 'bearded Fortune,' when they
         come to full manhood. If I must touch on their nuptial
         duties, there is Afferenda, whose appointed function is to
         see to the offering of the dower. But fie on you—you have
         your Mutunus, and Tutunus, and Pertunda, and Subigus, and
         the goddess Prema, and likewise Perfica. O spare yourselves,
         ye impudent gods."

19. Some angels are evil, but are much the same as the good (Ps. lxxviii 49), in their power of doing mischief.

20. Every heir of salvation has an angel to minister to him in some way or other (Heb. i. 14); so have Roman babies—see note.

21. The angels are only a trifle superior to men (Ps. viii. 5), and in the invisible world will be inferior to them if the latter be saints (1 Cor. vi. 3; Heb. ii. 5).

22. They can speak all sorts of languages (1 Cor. xiii. 1); that which Michael and the devil used (Jude 9) has not been revealed to us.

23. They use a trumpet, probably as immaterial as themselves, and make a great noise thereby (Matt xxiv. 31); and horses (Zech. i. and Rev. vi).

24. They have wings and can fly (Rev. viii. 13; xiv. 6), although they are chariots.

25. When on earth they are clothed with a long white garment, have a face like lightning, and one can appear to be two, or not appear at all to some, though very distinctly seen by others (see Matt xxviii. 2, 3; Mark xvi. 5; Luke xxiv. 4; John xx. 12).

Of all the angels mentioned in the Apocalypse we need not write. One of the best accounts I have met with of the angelic mythology of the Hebrews is in Coheleth, or The Book of Ecclesiastes, by Rev. Dr. Ginsburg (Longman, London, 1861). It is written in explanation of Ch. v. 5, wherein is the expression, "Do not say before the angel that it was error" (page 340), and the following remarks are condensed therefrom:— "The angels occupy different rank and offices—seven of them as the highest functionaries; princes or archangels surround the throne of God and form the cabinet—(1) Michael, the prime minister, the guardian of the Jewish nation, the opponent of Satan (Zech. iii. 1, 2), of the prince of Persia (Dan. x. 13, 20), the conservator of the corpse of Moses (Jude 9), and the dragon (Rev. xii); (2) Raphael, who presides over the sanitary affairs (Tobit iii. 17, xii. 15)—'When God would cure any sick person,' says St. Jerome, 'he sends the archangel Raphael, one of the seven spirits before his throne, to accomplish the cure.' There can be little doubt that this was the angel who went down at certain seasons to move the waters of the pool to cure the impotent people (John v. 4); (3) Gabriel, the messenger to announce or to effect deliverance, also a presence angel (Luke i. 11-20, 26-35); (4) Uriel, mentioned in Esdras (2 b., ch. iv., w. 1 and 20). In Targums these four are represented as surrounding the throne of the divine majesty, but all do not agree; Jonathan's arrangement is—Michael at the right, Uriel at the left, Gabriel before, and Raphael behind.* The fifth, sixth, and seventh archangels are Phaniel, Raguel, and Sarakiel."

         * An observation such as this distinctly shows how
         completely the ideas of angels are associated with gross
         anthropomorphism.

"Next to the cabinet comes the privy council, composed of four and twenty crowned elders (1 Kings xxii. 19; Rev. iv. 4; vii. 13; viii. 3), who surround the throne, before whom Christ will confess those who confessed him. Then comes the council, consisting of the seventy angel princes—the provincial governors presiding over the affairs of the seventy nations into which the human family is divided." Hence the Targumic paraphrase on Gen. xi. 7, 8—"The Lord said to the seventy presence angels, Come now and let us go down, and there let us confound their language, so that one may not understand the language of the other. And the Lord manifested himself against that city, and with him were the seventy angels according to the seventy nations." Hence the Septuagint translation of Deut xxxii. 8—"When the Most High divided the nations... he set the boundaries... according to the number of the angels." The doctor also notices the four angels mentioned in Zech. vi, who seem to have the management of four great monarchies, but he does not advert to the angels of the seven churches spoken of in the Apocalypse. He then proceeds—"Then comes the innumerable company of presence angels, since every individual has a guardian angel as well as every nation"... St Jerome, remarking upon Matt, xviii. 10, says,—"Great is the dignity of these little ones, for every one of them has from his very birth an angel dedicated to guard him."* When St. Peter was chained in his prison, his angel released him (Acts xiii. 7,11), and the damsel who opened a house door for him was told that he who was knocking was Peter's angel.

         * We have never been able to see the force of this remark,
         unless the idea of children having guardian angels was
         associated with the belief that these beings left them when
         they grew up. If the adults standing round Jesus had each an
         individual warden, there would be nothing peculiar in the
         warning given in the verse referred to. It is, however, just
         possible that the notion existed that it was to adults only
         that tutelary spirits were assigned, and that the prophet of
         Nazareth declared that each infant had a protecting genius
         as well as every man.

Then there are angels who preside over all the phenomena of nature. One presides over the sun (Eev. xix. 17); angels guard the storm and lightning (Ps. civ. 4); four angels have charge over the four winds (Rev. vii. 1, 2); an angel presides over the waters (Rev. xvi. 5); and another over the temple altar (Rev. xiv. 18).

We need not pursue this subject further; enough has been said to show that the Hebrew ideas of angels differ in no essential respect from those of other nations, who, if not older than the Jews, were certainly never influenced by the Hebrews. From the evidence before us, we are constrained to believe that the knowledge which we assume to possess of the celestial court has descended to us from heathen or pagan sources, and that the pictorial designs which pass current for likenesses of angels or archangels have descended from Egyptians, Assyrians, Persians, Grecians, Etruscans, and Romans, and cannot pretend to anything approaching to a revelation from God.

We have already remarked that the Hebrew notions of the heavenly hierarchy are evidence of a gross anthropomorphism; they indicate a belief in the existence of a monarch having a face and back, a right hand and a left, ears and a mouth, and a wherewithal for sitting upon a throne—the part which was shown, as we are told, to Moses; they tell of a theology that recognizes places in the universe where God is not, and of which He has no cognizance save through messengers. If this be so, what shall we say of the hagiology which tells us that there was on one occasion a conspiracy amongst the courtiers of the celestial ruler, a discovery of treason, and a punishment of the offenders as dire as the most malignant man could invent? We have often thought that no human being, unless he were vile, brutal, sensual, clever, disappointed, and revengeful, could have invented the idea of hell, and that none would ever have believed in it unless he was both timid, thoughtless, and malignant The dormant hate of the orthodox against opponents is an awful quantity. The expression of "fallen angels" is a pregnant text; it recalls to our mind the passage—"Yea, mine own familiar friend, in whom I trusted, which did eat of my bread, hath lifted up his heel against me" (Ps. xli. 9). It reminds us of David, Absalom and Ahitophel, of Solomon and Jeroboam, of Joram and Jehu, Benhadad and Hazael, Louis XVIII. and Marshal Ney. We feel sure that an individual who could write the words—"If we sin wilfully after that we have received the knowledge of the truth, there remaineth no more sacrifice for sins, but a certain fearful looking for of judgment and fiery indignation, which shall devour the adversaries" (Heb. x. 26, 27), could readily have invented a hell, if he had not found one already made to his hand. The sentence just quoted bears evidence of intense theological spitefulness, and a petty meanness that neither Sakya nor Jesus would have shown. Such thoughts are womanish, not manly, although apostolic.

We can fancy it having been penned by James or John, who once asked Jesus whether they should not call down fire from heaven to consume the Samaritans, simply because the latter were not polite to the master—"because he seemed to be going to Jerusalem" (Luke ix. 53, 54). But if so, those disciples must have forgotten the rebuke of Jesus—"Ye know not what manner of spirit ye are of."

Here we must pause awhile, and consider the idea of various peoples about Hell.

Some, perhaps we ought to say, many, earthly potentates have encouraged the belief that there is a place in which evildoers, who have escaped punishment for crime in this world will, after their death here, receive their deserts. A place of torment which no man has seen, or can see in life, and which, consequently, anyone can describe, is a wonderful supplement to imperfect police arrangements, and as such, has been fabricated or adopted in various nations. But in all the nations of antiquity, and those which we call pagan, Hell has been assigned to those who have committed crimes upon earth, such as murder, theft, and the like, and whose evil deeds have outnumbered their good ones. The idea of a torture vault for heretics has, so far as I can learn, been reserved for Christian times, and for nations who punish ecclesiastical offences more severely than the most atrocious crimes. The papal church, wherever she has had power, has punished rejection of her communion far more cruelly than she has dealt with rape, robbery, and murder; and all, who think with her, draw their arguments for so doing from what is said to be God's method of dealing with His rebellious angels. Surely, the idea runs, if the Almighty, who cannot do wrong, has punished with fire and everlasting torment the ministers who stood in His presence and around His throne, simply because they kept not their position, or did not watch over their principality—for both meanings may be assigned to the original words—surely man must treat his heretic fellow on a similar plan. God, runs the argument, made the Devil, and man must multiply his imps. It is true, according to Hebrew and Christian mythology, that the idea of a Devil was not originally in the mind of Jehovah. But when Satan rebelled he was immediately invested with power! In other words, Lucifer taught Elohim, and thoughtful Christians believe this!!

If we now attempt to frame a history of the modern Hell, its rulers, its angels, or its devils, we find, in the first place, that the Old Testament contains no idea whatever of Satan being an angel originally bright and fair, but subsequently disobedient, rebellious, conquered, and punished. Nor is the New Testament much more communicative—we find the arch-fiend described as a murderer and as a liar; he also is associated with angels, as in the words, "the Devil and his angels." He is described as "the Prince of the power of the air,"—as "a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour." He is "the spirit which worketh in the children of disobedience." He is also represented as telling Jesus, that he is able to dispose of all the kingdoms of the globe, and to give their glory to whom he will. Yet nowhere is a hint breathed that he was once an angel in heaven. The only verse in the whole Bible which is supposed to bear upon this matter, shows that the devil and his imps are not identical with the fallen angels, for Jude distinctly declares (verse 6) that the latter are "reserved in everlasting chains, under darkness, unto the judgment of the great day," a condition quite incompatible with their identity with Satan, who is represented as telling God that he had been going to and fro through the earth, and walking up and down in it (Job ch. i., v. 7). A conversation then follows the question, which must have been quite impossible had God recognized him as an escaped convict.

Again, if we turn to the book of Enoch (an apocryphal production, supposed for ages to have been lost, but discovered at the close of the last century in Abyssinia, now first translated from an Ethiopian MS. in the Bodleian Library, by Richard Laurence, LL.D., Archbishop of Cashel; 3d edition, 8vo. Oxford, 1838),—which is, and I think justly, believed to be the authority quoted by Jude, we find a full confirmation of our view of the independence of the Devil or Satan, and the fallen angels. The foundation of the work is the story-told in the sixth chapter of Genesis. In that work, the angels which kept not their first estate are described as those who preferred intercourse with human females to a celestial celibacy, for in those days there were sons of God and daughters of men. Nay, in one verse (chap, liii. 6) it is distinctly declared that one cause why the wrath of God came upon them was that "they became ministers of Satan, and seduced those who dwell upon the earth." In many places a reference is made to the close imprisonment of the angels who had "been polluted with women;" one such will suffice, (chap, xxi. 6), where, on seeing a terrific place, Enoch is told by Uriel "this is the prison of the angels, and here are they kept for ever." It is not even Satan who tempts the angels, for chapter lxviii. tells us that it was Yekun and Kesabel, two of themselves, who gave evil counsel, and induced their fellows to corrupt their bodies by generating mankind. It is clear that such a writer does not conceive the possible existence of angelic women.

The nearest approach to evidence of identification is the statement made in the same chapter (w. 6, 7), that Gradrel was the name of one of the leaders of the fallen, and that he seduced Eve. But this testimony is wholly worthless in the face of the fact that he, like all his company, are kept chained up, which Satan certainly is not.

From the foregoing facts and considerations, we can come to no other conclusion than that there is no truth in the angelic mythology current amongst ourselves—for which Milton and his Paradise Lost are mainly responsible. We may, indeed, affirm that a belief in angelic mythology is wholly incompatible with an enlightened religion. If we regard the Almighty as omnipresent and omniscient, we cannot imagine that He can require messengers, or organize an "intelligence department" in Heaven. A man who is present with his family requires no servant to tell him what each is doing, or to deliver his orders to one or other. So, if God be always with us, it is downright blasphemy to say that He requires a go-between to let Him know what we are doing, or what He wishes us to do.

In our next chapter we shall enter upon the consideration of a subject closely allied to that of Angels—namely, that of Ghosts, Apparitions, Disembodied Spirits, or by whatever name they are called. These mainly differ from the beings of whom we have treated in the fact that, whereas an angel is a messenger—one sent to do certain duties—a ghost is a being who comes upon the scene, which he or she has quitted, to do or to persuade somebody else to perform something that has been omitted to be done during the life-time of the deceased. In nine-tenths of the stories which we read of "revenans," the returned one is not sent as a messenger, nor does he come for any definite purpose. A man or woman barbarously murdered is painted as haunting the scene where the violence was committed, as flies flit over a carcase. Misers come to brood over their hoards, not to use them. In no case which I can remember do the tales represent the ghosts as being sent from either of the two powers—God and Satan; and to fancy that a deceased man or woman is a free agent after death is, to say the least of it, a proof that the believers in the doctrine do not believe the biblical text—"As the tree falleth so it must lie."

The ideas of Angels and of Ghosts have their origin in what may be called a superstitious education; and credence in the latter is an almost necessary pendant to a belief in the former. Indeed, if we put ourselves into the position of Manoah's wife, Zacharias (Luke i), and Mary, we feel sure that we should not have known whether the being who appeared was an angel or a ghost.

Note.—The reader interested in the subject of this chapter, will find additional information thereupon in Records of the Past (Bag-ster, London, 1873-74; vol. i. 131-135, and vol. iii.139-154). The volumes are inexpensive, and extremely valuable to the student of Assyrian, Babylonian, and Egyptian mythology.

## CHAPTER X.

         The inexorable logic of facts. Saul and the witch of Endor.
         Influence of Elisha's bones. The widow's son. Ideas about
         ghosts—about their power. Papal belief in ghosts. Ritual
         for exorcisms. St. Dunstan and St. Anthony. The Bible and
         ghosts. Scriptural ghosts. Ghosts independent of Judaism and
         Christianity. Japanese story. Buddhist priests, like
         Papalists, exorcise ghosts professionally. Ancient Grecian
         ghosts. Stories from Homer, Herodotus, Iamblichus. Modern
         French ghosts. Latin ghosts. Ghosts and lunacy. Ghosts and
         spiritualism. Mistakes of clairvoyantes.

It is not until we systematically inquire into certain tenets of our own belief, and compare or contrast them with those of other people far removed from us, that we are able to form an opinion about how much we owe to what we call "our peculiar religion," and how much we hold in common with other distant members of the human family.

It is probable that there is scarcely a "Bible Christian" in Great Britain who is not impressed with the truth of the statement made in 2 Tim. i. 10—viz., that Christ abolished death, and brought life and immortality to light by the Gospel. But the inexorable logic of facts proves to us that the idea of a life after death existed even amongst some ancient Jews—a people to whom it was certainly not revealed by God—and amongst nations who have not to this day become acquainted with Jesus, or what we call the Gospel, and who are mainly influenced by the doctrines of Buddha.

To give examples: no one can read the very fabulous story of the Witch of Endor and Saul without recognizing the fact, that both the one and the other are represented by the historian to have believed, that, though the body of the prophet Samuel had been rotting for a long period in its tomb, the spirit of the man was yet existent. Nor does a Bible Christian see anything peculiar in the miracle of the restoration of the dead man mentioned in 2 Kings xiii. 21, who, when he touched the mouldy bones of Elisha, which represented all that was left, on earth, of that distinguished wonder-worker, at once revived, and stood upon his feet. But the story forces us to believe that the Hebrew writer, who had no revelation from Jehovah about a future life, was, from some cause or other, obliged to allow that the prophet had some sort of existence after his decease. A similar remark may be made respecting the story of the widow's son, given in 1 Kings xvii. 17-23, in which it is clear that both the mother of the child and the prophet believed it to be dead, although the latter acted as if there was yet its living spirit existing somewhere, and capable of being recalled. No simple figure of speech will explain away the doctrine referred to, for there is reference distinctly made to the idea of a life independent of that of the body.

It may well be supposed, that the very extraordinary tales spoken of were introduced into the ancient books by modern Pharisees, as proofs of their faith being superior to that of the Sadducees—it is, indeed, probable that they were so; but into this point we will not enter. We pass by, in like manner, the real signification of the English word "ghost," and make no reference to the idea of there being a Holy, in contradistinction to a profane, vulgar, and unholy, ghost We may also omit anything more than a bare allusion to the fact that the third member of the Trinity, as it is called, appeared in forms recognizable by the eye; and that when it assumed an overshadowing condition (Luke i. 35), it acted as a male human body would have done, and impregnated Mary, as Jupiter did Leda. It is rather my desire to call attention to the ideas actually existing, probably in all Christendom, and certainly in Great Britain, respecting "ghosts." They may be thus described.

It is believed by many that certain individuals have, during their lifetime, a power of determining that some immaterial part of their living body shall, after death, assume the figure and proportions possessed by the person during life, as well as his clothes, &c., and act as if this second self had a real existence, recognizable by men, animals, and even candles,* and a definite worldly purpose. In other cases it is assumed, that the defunct has not had any particular desire to return to life until after his death has taken place; but that his spirit, having as much power to think without its brains as with them, makes itself apparent with a distinct object, formed, not in the living body, but in the corpse. The purposes generally attributed to ghosts are, to give information about murder or money, to compel religious rites over their dead body, or to punish a relentless oppressor with daily horror. Still further, some suppose that ghosts are doomed for a certain time to walk the earth, and suffer during the day in fires perpetual, till, in some unknown way, the sins of their bodies have been purged away, or until some one, living, has made an atonement for sins committed and unpardoned during the lifetime of the "revenant" (Shakespeare in Hamlet). The so-called disembodied spirits are supposed to be able to operate upon matter, to throw our atmosphere into waves, producing vision and hearing, and to move from one spot to another. They have, still farther, the power of making and emitting light, and are so partial to using the faculty, that they prefer appearing by night, and in darkness.

         * "And the lights in the chamber burnt blue."

         —Alonzo the Brave.—Lewis.

Of the real existence of such ghostly beings no devout Romanist can fail to convince himself; for his Church, which claims to be infallible, has provided special services for combating them, and a Papal priest has, many a time, claimed, and attempted to exercise, the power to drive what the French call "revenans," from the earth into the Red Sea. The saintly annals of the Church of Rome are filled with stories of angels, gods, and devils, who have appeared to holy men of old, either to applaud their conduct, or to try their faith The legends about Saint Dunstan and Saint Anthony are too well known to require repetition here, and it would be idle to refer to some particularly good ghost story, when everybody knows so many.

The general credit obtained by the tales referred to has been attributed by many to the teaching of the Bible. The apparition of Samuel to Saul; the intercourse between the angel Raphael and Tobit; the manifestation of some celestial beings to Zacharias (Luke i. 11); to Mary (v. 28); to certain shepherds (Luke ii. 9); the statement that some men have entertained angels unawares (Heb. xiii. 2); the transfiguration scene, described in Matt, xvii. and Mark ix., in which Moses and Elias are said to have returned from heaven to earth, with the design of comforting Jesus; and the story of Peter and the angel, told in Acts xii. 6-15—all indicate a firm belief in the existence of ghosts, and form the Christian's warrant for believing in them.

But an extended knowledge of the belief entertained by people other than the followers of Jesus shows that the idea in question is wholly independent of both Judaism and Christianity. A credence in ghosts is profound in Japan, and it resembles, in every respect, that which has been so long current in Europe. If any one, for example, will read a story in A B. Mitford's Tales of Old Japan (Macmillan; London, 1871), entitled, "The Ghost of Sakura," a village, he will scarcely be able to divest himself of the idea that the legend is of British origin. Without going into the reasons which have convinced me that the writer has fairly given a purely Japanese tale, and one wholly untainted by Popish legends, I may shortly indicate the main points in the narrative, which purports to be a true one. A certain lord behaved very badly to his tenants, increasing the imposts upon them until life became a burden. By ordinary petitions he was unmoved, and it was necessary to have recourse to unusual means. The adoption of a promising plan was, in the mind of its proposer, a positive passport to a cruel death, by crucifixion. In a touching leave-taking of his wife, he ends his speech with the words—"I give my life to allay the misery of the people of this estate" (vol. ii, p. 12). His proceedings save the poor peasants, for whom he sacrifices himself, from utter ruin—every grievance which they have is redressed; but their saviour is condemned to be crucified, in which punishment his wife is included, and his sons are to be beheaded before his face. Unable to save the man, his nearest male friends become priests, and end their days praying and making offerings on behalf of their friends' souls, and those of the wife and offspring (p. 25), and they collect money enough to erect six bronze memorial Buddhas. "Thus," the tale goes on to say, "did these men, for the sake of Sogoro and his family, give themselves up to works of devotion; and the other villagers also brought food to soothe the spirits of the dead, and prayed for their entry into Paradise; and, as litanies were repeated without intermission, there can be no doubt that Sogoro attained salvation." The next sentence is a Buddhist text, viz.:—

"In Paradise, where the blessings of God are distributed without favour, the soul learns its faults by the measure of the rewards given. The lusts of the flesh are abandoned, and the soul, purified, attains to the glory of Buddha." I scarcely need mention, to those interested in Buddhism, that this conception of Paradise is very different to that which many persons uphold to be "nothingness." The Japanese "Nirvana" is evidently not annihilation.

When Sogoro was to die, the friendly priests entreated the authorities that they might have his body, so as to be able to bury it decently; but the request was only granted after the corpse had been exposed three days and three nights.

At the time appointed, Sogoro and his wife are tied to two crosses, and their children brought out for decapitation. The utterance of the eldest son (æt. 13) is very touching—"Oh my father and mother, I am going before you to Paradise, that happy country, to wait for you. My little brothers and I will be on the banks of the river Sandzu,* and stretch out our hands, and help you across. Farewell, all you who have come to see us die; and now, please cut off my head at once." With this he stretched out his neck, murmuring a last prayer (p. 28).

         * The Buddhist Styx, which separates Paradise from Hell,
         across which the dead are ferried by an old woman, for whom
         a small piece of money is buried with them. I may add that
         such a custom obtains amongst the lower orders in Ireland to
         this day.

At length it is the parents turn to die, and thus speaks the wife—"Remember, my husband, that from the first you had made up your mind to this fate. What though our bodies be disgracefully exposed on these crosses? (compare Gal. iii. 13). We have the promises of the Gods before us; therefore, mourn not. Let us fix our minds upon death; we are drawing near to Paradise, and shall soon be with the saints. Be calm, my husband. Let us cheerfully lay down our lives for the good of many. Man lives but for one generation, his name for many. A good name is more to be prized than life." "Well said wife; what though we are punished for the many? our petition was successful, and there is nothing left to wish for..... For myself, I care not; but that my wife and children should be punished also is too much.... Let my lord fence himself in with iron walls, yet shall my spirit burst through them, and crush his bones, as a return for this deed." As he said this, he looked like the demon Razetsu (p. 30). The execution is completed by thrusting a spear into the side until it comes out at the opposite shoulder, and as it is withdrawn, the blood streams out like a fountain. Ere Sogoro dies, he again threatens his lord to revenge himself upon him in a manner never to be forgotten, and adds—"As a sign, when I am dead, my head shall turn and face towards the castle. When you see this, doubt not that my words shall come true" (p. 31). As Sogoro laid down his life for a noble cause, he was canonized, and became a tutelar deity of his lord's family. After the execution, those subordinates of the lord of the land were dismissed from their office, who, by their culpable and vile conduct, had made such a catastrophe necessary—a retribution that reminds the reader of that which is said to have fallen on the Jews, because of a death by crucifixion which they brought about. The Japanese historian then goes on (p. 34)—"In the history of the world, from the dark ages down to the present time, there are few instances of one man laying down his life for the many, as Sogoro did; noble and peasant praise him alike."

Four years after this the ghosts of Sogoro and of his wife and family begin to torment their late cruel lord. His lady is gradually frightened to death; the crucified couple appear to her and to her husband in a far more fearful form than Jesus is said to have appeared to Constantine. They threaten both with the pains of Hell, and declare that they have come to take them there; and with them come other ghosts, who hoot, yell, laugh, and come and go at pleasure. No one, not even priests, could quiet the frightful sounds, or get rid of the horrible sights. Violence was wholly unavailing; mystic rites, incantations, and prayers were alike useless. The visions appeared at first by day, but subsequently by night. They were visible to everybody. But, after a long consultation, the once brutal, but now humbled, nobleman agrees to erect a shrine to the crucified man, and to pay him divine honours. This was done: Sogoro became a saint, under the name of Sogo Daimiyo, and the ghosts appeared no more. But terrible misfortunes fall upon the Lord Kotsuke, and he "began to feel that the death of his wife, and his own present misfortunes, were a just retribution for the death of Sogoro and his wife and children, and he was as one awakened from a dream. Then, night and morning, in his repentance, he offered up prayers to the sainted spirit of the dead farmer, acknowledged and bewailed his crime, vowing that, if his own family were spared from ruin, and re-established, intercession should be made at the court of the Mikado on behalf of the spirit of Sogoro, so that, being worshipped with even greater honours than before, his name should be handed down to all generations" (p. 43). In a foot note we learn that the Mikado of Japan could, like the Pope of Rome, confer posthumous divine honours upon whom he pleased. The tale tells us that, by the means just before alluded to, the spirit of Sogoro was appeased, and then positively became his quondam enemy's patron saint, and was universally respected in all that part of the country. His shrine was made beautiful as a gem, and night and day the devout worshipped at it Mitford adds (p. 47)—"The belief in ghosts appears to be as universal as that of the immortality of the soul upon which it depends. Both in China and Japan the departed spirit is invested with the power of revisiting the earth, and, in a visible form, tormenting its enemies, and haunting those places where the perishable part of it mourned and suffered. Haunted houses are slow to find tenants, for ghosts almost always come with revengeful intent; indeed, the owners of such houses will almost pay men to live in them, such is the dread which they inspire, and the anxiety to blot out the stigma."

The parallel between an episode in Palestine, and that herein described as having occurred in Japan, will be completed if the reader remembers the passage in the Epistle to the Romans, wherein Paul, after speaking of the fall of the Jews, subsequent to the death of Jesus—who gave his life for others—remarks, "if the casting away of them be the reconciling of the world, what shall the receiving of them be but life from the dead" (Rom. xi. 15).

In addition to the ghost story above described, many others are detailed by Mr Mitford that are exact counterparts of some of those most firmly believed by orthodox Christians, and most commonly met with in novelettes and magazines. We give a digest of them—

A paterfamilias is thrown into prison for gambling. After being confined some time, he returns home one night pale and thin, and, after receiving congratulations, he tells the friends assembled that he is permitted to leave the prison that evening by the jailers, for that he is to be returned to them the next day publicly. When the time arrives, they are summoned to remove his corpse—he had died the night before, and it was his ghost which had appeared. Compare Acts v. 19, and xii. 7-14.

The next runs thus—A cruel policeman had a housemaid, who broke one of ten plates which he valued—she confessed the accident to the mistress. When the master came to hear of the loss, he tied the girl to a cupboard, and cut off one of her fingers daily. She managed to escape, and drowned herself in the garden well. Every night afterwards there was a noise from the well, counting up to nine, and then came a burst of grief. All the retainers left the place; the magistrate could not perform his duties, and was dismissed. The ghost was ultimately laid by a priest.

After recounting this story, Mitford remarks—"The laying of disturbed spirits appears to form one of the regular functions of the Buddhist priests; at least, we find them playing a conspicuous part in every ghost story" (p. 50).

The next tale is one of a haunted house. No paying tenant will live there, but a poor fencing master takes it for nothing. He first hears a terrific noise in the garden pond, and, on looking, sees a dark cloud enshrining a bald head. He inquires, and discovers that a former tenant, ten years ago, murdered a money-lender, and threw his head into the water. The actual tenant now drains the pond, finds the skull, takes it for burial to a temple, causing prayers to be offered up for the repose of the murdered man's soul. Thus the ghost was laid, and appeared no more. This tale serves as an additional means of recognizing the descent of Papism from Buddhism.

Returning once again to Europe, we find that the ancient Greeks had not only an idea of the resurrection of the dead, and life after death, but that departed spirits could be summoned to appear by the living. For example, at the opening of the eleventh book of the Odyssey, Ulysses recounts how-he offered a certain sacrifice, and tells us that, after it, the souls of the perished dead came forth from Erebus—betrothed girls and youths—much enduring old men, and tender virgins having a newly grieved mind—and many Mars-renowned men, wounded with brass-tipped spears, possessing gore-smeared arms, who in great numbers were wandering about the trench, on different sides, with a divine clamour, and pale fear seized upon me.... At first the soul of my companion, Elpenor, came, for he was not yet buried.... The shade addressed the hero, and, after telling the manner of his own death, entreats to have his corpse burned, and a tomb to be placed over it After this shade, appears Ulysses' mother, then Theban Tiresias, having a golden sceptre (Bohn's translation, pp. 147, 8). The rest of the book is made up of a number of dialogues between the traveller and the illustrious dead.

The following, from Herodotus (vi. 68, 69), might have been introduced into chapter viii, for it is not only an example of a ghost, but of supernatural generation—but it is most appropriate here. Demaratus, having been twitted by certain persons that he was not the son of his putative father, who was known to be impotent, and that he was begotten by a mean man—a feeder of asses—adjures his mother, by a most solemn oath, to tell the truth. She replies—When Ariston had taken me to his own house, on the third night from the first a spectre, resembling Ariston, came to me, and having lain with me, put on me a crown that it had, it departed, and afterwards Ariston came; but when he saw me with the crown, he asked who it was that gave it me. I said, he did; but he would not admit it.... Ariston, seeing that I affirmed with an oath, discovered that the event was superhuman; and, in the first place, the crown proved to have come from the shrine... situate near the palace gates, which they call Astrabacus's; and, in the next place, the seers pronounced that it was the hero himself. We need not dwell upon the miracle, being only desirous to show that, in the time of Herodotus, ideas of the return of departed spirits to earth were common—had it not been so, the story would not have been conceived. See also Herod iv. 14, 15; Æsch Theb. 710; cf. Porson on Eur. Or. 401; Æsch Ag. 415.

Perhaps the most striking example of a phantom is given in Herodotus viii. 84, where a spectre, in a woman's form, appeared, and cheered the Greeks on shipboard to a battle, saying, so that all the warriors heard her—"Dastards, how long will you back water?"

In more recent times, Iamblicus (on the Mysteries, section ii, chap, iv.), speaking of different celestial and ordinarily invisible powers, observes—"In the motions of the heroic phasmata (or apparitions—phantoms or ghosts) a certain magnificence presents itself to the view." In the phasmata of the Archons the first energies appear to be most excellent and authoritative, and the phasmata of souls are seen to be the more moveable, yet are more imbecile, than those of heroes.... The magnitude of the epiphanies (or manifestations) in the gods, indeed, is so great, as sometimes to conceal all heaven.1' Then the author describes how this brilliancy is less in each inferior order of spirits, and is smallest in those souls below the grade of heroes (Taylor's translation, pp. 89, 90). In sect iii., chap, iii., the same writer remarks—"The soul has a twofold life, one being in conjunction with the body, the other being separated from all body." Again, in chap. xxxi.—"Still worse is the explanation of sacred operations, which assigns, as the cause of divination, a certain genus of daemons, which is naturally fraudulent, omniform, and various, and which assumes the appearance of gods and daemons, and the souls of the deceased" (Taylor's ed., p. 199). Le Dictionnaire Infernal, which I have previously described, gives two very modern-like histories from the Greeks, under the names Philinnion and Polycritus; but, as I cannot verify them by reference, I shall say no more of them.

When we come to speak about the Romans, the first history which occurs to my mind is the well-known statement, that the ghost of Cæsar appeared to Brutus before the battle in which the latter met with his death. The narrator of the story dwells somewhat upon the coolness with which the living hero encounters the shade of the dead, as if it were strange for people, when they saw ghosts, not to be terrified. I think that we may believe in the Etruscans having an idea of invisible spirits becoming occasionally apparent, inasmuch as in a sepulchral painting, in the tomb of the Tarquinii, the shade of Patroclus is represented as standing over Achilles as he kills the Trojan captives in sacrifice.

In later times, Otho declared that Galba's ghost had appeared to him, and had tumbled him out of bed (Suetonius' Lives of the Caesars, Otho, vii).

We may take our next illustration from Cicero upon the nature of the gods. In book 2, ch. ii.,—"Who now," he makes Lucilius say, "believes in Hippocentaurs and Chimeras? or what old woman is now to be found so weak and ignorant as to stand in fear of those infernal monsters which once so terrified mankind? For time destroys the fictions of error and opinion, whilst it confirms the determinations of nature and truth. And therefore it is that, both amongst us and amongst other nations, sacred institutions and the divine worship of the gods have been strengthened and improved from time to time; and this is not to be imputed to chance alone, but to the frequent appearance of the gods themselves. In the war with the Latins... Castor and Pollux were seen fighting with our army on horseback... and as P. Vatienus... was coming in the night to Rome... two young men on white horses appeared to him, and told him that king Perses was that day taken prisoner." He told the news and was imprisoned as a liar; but further information confirmed the ghost's story, and he was liberated and rewarded."... The voices of the Fauns have been often heard, and deities have appeared in forms so visible that they have compelled everyone, who is not senseless or hardened in impiety, to confess the presence of the gods" (Bohn's translation, p. 46). In page 186 of the same edition, two remarkable instances are given wherein supernatural voices told of approaching trouble, and how it was to be avoided. No notice was taken of the warning, and the misfortunes which had been foretold occurred. The second miracle very closely resembled the modern voice of the Virgin at Lourdes.

Whilst I was writing the preceding remarks, my attention was called by a friend to the following remarks in The Examiner, which seem to me so appropriate to this chapter and the preceding one, that I gladly quote them:—"If there is anything more striking than the thoughtless credulity with which men accept statements agreeing with their preconceptions, it is the stubborn incredulity with which they receive statements at variance with those preconceptions. The devotees of each religion, and even of each sect into which a religion is so commonly split up, accept and even adore the absurdities of their own belief, while they scan, with a sceptical severity that cannot be surpassed, the not greater follies of other systems of belief. In no respect is this fact more glaring than in the case of miracles. Each Church has its own special miracles, devoutly believed in, but repels with contempt or horror the alleged miracles of other religions. Happy that it is so. Were superstition not in its essence and nature a dividing folly, could it but muster in one herd all its votaries, common sense and truth would have a hard battle for existence."

At this point of my subject, I feel the natural inclination of a physician to enter upon those changes in the nervous centres which induce individuals to hear, feel, and see, noises, sensations, and spectra, which have no real existence. But with the majority of experienced medical men, the matter is so well known that it would be idle for me to dwell upon it, further than to say, that it is a matter of fact that many an individual who hears and sees words and beings which are illusions, acts upon them as if they were real. Many an assault upon some quiet citizen, many an instance of wilful mischief, and even of murder, is due to a communication made, apparently by a supernatural visitor, to a person who has fully believed it. To a man in his perfect senses the delusive character of a spectre, or a message given in an audible voice may be readily recognized; but when an individual has a diseased brain, all delusions seem real, and it is a part of the affection that they are not only recognized, but acted on.

The question has often suggested itself to my own mind, "How much has insanity of mind had to do with religion?" In modern times, the psychologist can readily see how far Swedenborg, Johanna Southcote, and many others, were influenced by a diseased condition of the brain; he can also see indications of lunacy in Ezekiel and the author of Daniel. But he is unable to prosecute the subject far without discovering that mental weakness is often bolstered up by fraud. Nothing is more easy than for an intelligent physician to understand the physical causes of such visions as certain religionists have talked of. But when a spurious miracle, like that of the apparition of a talking, immaculately-conceived Virgin at Lourdes, is traded on, the occurrence leaves the region of folly, and enters that of fraud. Into that it is injudicious to enter here.

I may, however, advert to the current belief that certain individuals in the same family have, for many succeeding generations, their death foretold by some "wraith" or "phantom" appearing to them. This story is probably founded upon the fact that hereditary brain disease exists in the constitution of all such persons, and that its occurrence in each victim is marked by an ocular, and, perhaps, some aural delusion. The apparition may seem real to the diseased nervous system, though it has no absolute existence.

We are then constrained to believe that the idea of ghosts has not arisen, in the first place, from any peculiar form of religious belief, but from the fact that in all inhabitants of the world there has existed that form of insanity which consists in the victim believing that he hears and sees individuals, inaudible and unseen by others. It is not, however, necessary that there shall be insanity with the hallucinations referred to; for I am personally acquainted with many individuals who have both seen and heard, as they imagine, persons and voices, but of whose sanity I have no doubt. Such delusions often come from overstudy, or too great mental emotion; and the medical worker in his closet and the Roman general in his tent may equally see a spirit.

But it must be understood that to all classes the hallucination has the effect of reality, until, by the exercise of an active will, inquiry proves that both sounds and sights thus noticed are illusions. If, therefore, persons who have visions, &c., have not intellects which are cultivated, the spectres will pass for realities, and, as such, will be described.

If we endeavour to apply this observation to certain cases, we shall see how far the deductions are vraisemblable. Of all the causes which produce atrocious crimes, insanity of mind is the most common. But this cause is rarely recognized at the time, even in a country like our own. Murder, rape, arson, and a host of other atrocities are often the first evidence of a diseased brain. The doctor is assured of this long before an ignorant public, and he traces without surprise the course of a malady which is not seen by the vulgar, until its culmination in some better known form of lunacy. These mental sufferers are exactly those to whom visions are most common, and who are most unable to test the reality of their hallucinations. If, then, they are integers of a people to whom insanity is unknown, it is natural that their narratives will be listened to with awe. The Japanese tyrant, whose case we have given, was probably brutal from impending brain disease, and the visions which appeared to him were caused by an increase of his malady.

Shakespeare has evidently taken this view of the question, for, in Macbeth, he makes that hero (act ii., scene 1), soliloquise with a dagger which he sees, but cannot clutch—"Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible to feeling, as to sight, or art thou but a dagger of the mind; a false creation, proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?" Conscious of the illusion, Macbeth recognizes the probable cause; but, at a later period, when the diseased brain is worse than it was before, the unfortunate man is quite unable to reason, and we find him in act iii., scene 4, affrighted by the ghost of Banquo—whose appearance he believes to be real, even although his wife recalls to his mind the dagger scene, and reasons upon his weakness.

I do not think that we shall be far wrong if we assume that many nations, who were not far advanced in mental speculation, obtained their first ideas of the resurrection of the body from the hallucinations of approaching or actual insanity. Christian divines unquestionably endeavour to demonstrate the truth of the dogma referred to, by the frequent appearance of Jesus to his disciples after his crucifixion.

But the manifestation of Jesus differed wholly from that of Moses and Elias who once came to talk to him. He takes particular pains to demonstrate to Thomas that he has flesh and blood and a hole in his side, as well as in his hands and feet. This indicates that Jesus did not die upon the cross, but that he fainted and came back to life.

To insist for a moment upon the lessons taught by the narrative in the gospels, let us inquire what is the value of the argument which proves the resurrection of the body, either by the appearance to some one of a departed friend or enemy, or the visits of Jesus to his disciples. If it is demonstrated thus that the body is eternal and will rise again, it is equally certain that its garments, whether cloth, linen, or calico, will be resuscitated also!

The subject, however, is not yet exhausted, for we have now to remark, that no one has ever been known to see a spectre which does not represent some one whom he has seen, or whose picture he has noticed; nor does he ever hear a voice in a tongue unknown to himself. Consequently, when we find individuals recognizing some one whose portrait they have seen, but who talks in the mother tongue of the visionary, we are forced to conclude that the matter is unreal. If a French girl—or several of them, see the Virgin Mary, and hear her talk French, it is evident to every thinking mind, either that there is mental disorder or priestly craft. In like manner, when individuals, calling themselves "mediums," declare their power to call before them the ghosts of Homer and Hero, Leander and Alexander, and assert that they can distinguish Plato from Socrates, and Seneca from Xenophon, and can converse with all in pure English, it is clear that such people are not insane, and that their pretended skill has no existence. That which goes by the names of clairvoyance and spiritualism is based solely upon an unreasoning credulity.

In speaking of a belief in "spiritualism" as being analogous to implicit credence in ghosts—and both as being founded upon imperfection in judgment, it is right that I should give some reasons for what I say.

More than thirty years have elapsed since I attended my first séance with a clairvoyant. She had then been in Liverpool some time, and not only came to us from America with a wonderful renown, but soon attached to her triumphal car some of the most conspicuous of our local savans. Having read much upon the subject of Mesmerism—the Od or Odyllic force, animal magnetism, &c., I was desirous of gaining some personal experience, and gladly accepted an invitation to see the lady referred to, at the house of a near relative. There were many present, and before the meeting formally began, I obtained permission to take notes in writing of what passed. The first undertaking was that we should be told what two of our number were doing in a dark room below stairs. I was one of the two, and we stood with one hand upon the other's shoulder, and the loose hands were held out horizontally. One leg of each was resting on the tabla The lady reported us as sitting together on a sofa. Her husband explained away the failure by saying that there was a mirror in the room! As there was a looking-glass in every apartment in the house, my friend and I took our position on the stairs; and on this occasion we lay down at full length heads downwards. The clairvoyant said that we were arm in arm talking. After this second failure, I was asked to take the lady's hand in mine, and think deeply of some place which she would then describe to me.

I must here pause to notice the condition referred to. My mind was to be absorbed in what I required to be described—if I allowed my thoughts to wander, I was told that the woman would be confused, and her performance a failure. This involved the idea that I was not to criticise, as the affair proceeded, but to make one thing "square" with another, if I could. My part was carefully pointed out, but nothing came of it. I then gave a possible clue, which was followed up, and with some surprise I found the woman describe what I was really thinking about. But the repetition of a phrase struck upon my ear—it was this, "I see a lot of things going back and for'rads," and I found that I had interpreted this as men, women, schoolboys, horses, palisades, trees, cloisters, houses, and coaches!

After my retirement an elderly man grasped the hand, and I with pencil took down the words the woman used, with the intention of asking certain outsiders next day if the terms conveyed to them any distinct idea. I found the favourite sentence referred to came so often, that I merely left for the words a space with t. b. f., to show where the phrase occurred. There were far more spaces in my manuscript than words. But the old gentleman was satisfied, and so was his son who was present. It had been agreed between them that the clairvoyant was to describe "their house"—both were satisfied that she had; but one was thinking of the town and the other of the country house!

During the talk, the woman, every time she uttered a sentence, said, "Am I right?" and when told that she was wrong, she adroitly changed her statement. Every experiment that night was a failure, and to some of us who were sceptics our host remarked—"How is it that when you expect the most, everything goes wrong?" To this my reply was—"When doubters are present you scan evidence closer than when you are all believers together."

When once I was known as a pyrrhonist, I was invited to see everybody who was regarded by others as extraordinarily perfect in clairvoyance; and was astonished to find out how ignorant the believers were of the laws of evidence.

After a time clairvoyance was replaced by spiritualism, and I was again challenged to test the virtue of mediums. As my avocations wholly prevented my personal attendance, I challenged certain of the faithful to describe my library, saying that I should not be content with being told that there were windows and a door, a fireplace and a chair, a table and an inkstand, &c., but that I had something very peculiar in it, the like of which I had never seen before—if this were described, I should fancy that the spirits knew something. But I added, so long as "spirits" only did things which conjurors, prestidigitateurs, "et hoc genus omne," did, I should decline to believe that spirits were corporeal, and that Grecian statesmen, Latin orators, and Sanscrit theologians were familiar with the English language.

It must be emphatically stated that a man must not attribute everything, of which he knows little, to a power of which he knows less. No one can tell why an ordinary tree grows upwards, whilst a few peculiar ones grow, after a certain period of their life, downwards; and if any one were to declare that the first were influenced by the spirit of an unicorn, and the second by the spirit of a cow's tail, he would be regarded as a fool. Not much wiser would he be, who, when he heard a knock of some kind or other, asserted or believed that it came from the angel of night—the well-known Nox. The untutored savage, when first he sees a watch, cannot tell how it goes—if he says that he is ignorant, we may respect him; but if he declares that a spirit moves it, we despise his credulity. The polite circles of civilized cities who attribute the absurd capers of tambourines, concertinas, tables, and the like to the vivacity of the ghosts of defunct philosophers, and who think that it requires the shade of Venus to tell us, that feminine women are more graceful than masculine hoydens, are not much superior to the natural savage.

These remarks may be supplemented by the experiences imparted to me by several personal friends; for, as it seems to me, each one has his own way in looking at things, and has, so to speak, an idiosyncrasy in belief and scepticism. One man, for example, inquires "How is it that if I propound to a spiritualist, to an artist with 'planchette,' or any other person who professes clairvoyance—a question, through a friend who does not know the answer, I never get a correct reply; but if I propound the same question the response is always right?" In this case it is clear that the inquirer answers himself—not wittingly, it is true; but, by means of a slight hesitation under certain circumstances, he gives to the adroit professor the needful clue. How far this is true has been repeatedly proved by those who have made the spirits say anything—"Where is my sister?" such an one asks, and by the alphabet and raps he hears that she is in Munich; but as the inquirer never had a sister, the spirits have clearly been duped.

One of my friends, ordinarily a thorough sceptic, was converted to the belief that one of his hands was positively and the other negatively magnetic, and he showed me how he turned, by their means, a book suspended between us upon a door key finely tied within the leaves. But when I showed him that this was done by a movement of the body, and could not be done if both hands employed were fixed upon anything—he was convinced that what seemed due to one thing depended, in reality, upon another. Yet that man was an acute and able chemical analyst. How the late Dr Faraday convinced "table turners" that they did, unconsciously, that which they wished, but determined not to do, will long be remembered as a marvel of philosophical induction. We all have not the faculty of analyzing evidence, and it would be well if those who are deficient in that power would be less bigoted than they are. We can scarcely expect it, however, for ignorance and arrogance usually walk together; and no man is more convinced of his knowledge than the one who takes it at second hand, and believes what he is told. The faithful swallow "squid," and become a mass of blubber; the sceptics feed on solid flesh, and are thin as tigers.

## CHAPTER XI.

         Reconstructive. Faith and reason. Result of previous
         investigations. Value of morality. Morality and Romanism.
         Vice encouraged by priests—end in view. Submission to
         priests more valuable than virtue. Vice better than
         scepticism. Theological false witness. Compulsory faith.
         Supply without demand—in theology. Correctness of doctrine
         proved by the sword. Church and state in modern times.
         "Nerve" required to change a belief. Moral courage. What is
         faith? Absurd definition given by Paul. Faith must be
         uncompromising. Why faith signifies blind confidence. Faith
         and folly go hand in hand. Faith makes fools. Jesuits and
         faith. Popery and faith. Faith persecutes reason. All
         religious teachers uphold faith—the reason why. Quiet after
         activity. The one who partly abjures faith resembles a
         mariner at sea. Faith and reason incompatible. The author's
         personal belief: Negative—positive. Opinions on various
         received dogmas. Laws of Nature. Providence. The Book of God
         in the universe. Sin—the ideas connected with children and
         whelps. Human and animal instincts. Religious laws against
         God's. Pious murder. When crimes are praiseworthy. Human
         laws and ecclesiastical. Effect on common law of priestly
         legislation. Ecclesiastical laws generally bad ones. The
         Church makes sins; so does society. A case supposed. Society
         contravenes the laws of Nature. The proper basis of
         legislation. Personal impressions. Duty the guide of
         conduct. Conclusions.

Importance of them. Reason gives peace of mind. Fears of the orthodox. Reason may regenerate the world; Faith does not. Another way of treating the subject Mr Gladstone upon education. Opposes "dread of results" to "desire of learning." Gladstone and Strauss. Various oracles. Oxford graduates rarely philosophic. Lord Bacon's aphorisms. Science obstructed by human weaknesses. Progress of science barred by ecclesiastics. Religion and despotism. The man who scouts induction is a bigot. Revelation requires exposition. Three sets of expounders—all differ. Which must the faithful follow? Popish miracles claim credence from the faithful. He who argues must be logical. Can a bigot be a liberal? If learning is valuable, it must have free scope. Choice proposed—faith or reason? Men of mark who shun religious inquiry. Faraday and Gladstone. Influence of faith, or reason, on the clergy. Examples. An objection noticed. Reason useless in matters of faith—its absurdity demonstrated.

It is now time to enter upon what has, throughout the composition of the preceding essays, been constantly present to my mind, viz., "reconstruction." In the two larger volumes, and in this small one, it has been my aim to clear away the foul rags which have, for many thousand years, been heaped upon the lovely figure of truth—to endeavour to remove the meretricious, or rubbishy, constructions that designing men have builded round the magnificent structure of God's universe. I have, in my own opinion, demonstrated that the Jews have no real claim to be regarded as Jehovah's chosen people, and that their writings present no marks of having been inspired or revealed—that, on the contrary, there are proofs to show that a large portion of their Scriptures are worthless fabrications, contrived by imperfectly educated men, for a political purpose, or to foster vanity.

In our examination into the character of the Hebrew God, and of those individuals said to be his special friends and messengers, as given in the Bible, we found evidence to show that the historians were a semi-civilized, sensual, and malignant race, whose ignorance was only surpassed by their arrogance. It has been further shown, that every portion of the Jewish Scriptures which modern Christians have adopted into their own religion, came to the so-called "chosen people" from those whom they, and many amongst ourselves, designate "heathen." We have, still further, shown the almost absolute identity between the current Christian faith and that originated by Sakya Muni, which still reigns in Thibet, Tartary, China, Ceylon, Japan, and elsewhere. We have demonstrated that a high grade of civilization, and a form of government more paternal and provident than any which the old world knew, existed in Peru, without the smallest evidence of Christianity or Mosaism having ever existed there.

We have, in addition, shown that the miraculous conception of the Virgin Mary is not, by any means, as great a marvel as it is generally supposed to be, such an occurrence being as common to-day as it was from the beginning, and as it probably ever will be. By a similar inquiry we could readily have proved that the ascension of Jesus was not at all unique, inasmuch as great men of old were in the habit of rising after their decease, and making their dwelling in the heaven above—e.g., Romulus.

We have, still further, demonstrated that the modern belief in an angelic host has nothing in it peculiar to Bible Christians and modern Jews, and that our notion of a resurrection of the body is not exclusively a portion of the Christian's creed, but that it was held, in one form or another, more or less distinct, by the ancient Greeks and Romans, and the distant Japanese. In fine, we have done much to sweep away the major part of the religious doctrines and dogmas which are prevalent in the Christian world.. Our writing hitherto has been essentially iconoclastic.

But, amongst all the idols which we have attempted to throw down, we have not, in any instance, threatened morality. We take no credit for forbearance, but we point to the fact, inasmuch as whenever opposite religionists contend about their tenets, they never lay violent hands upon morality. They may abuse the practice of their opponents, and hold up the imaginary vices of their enemy to execration, but real goodness in the work of life is ever respected.*

         * I am, however, somewhat in doubt whether the Roman Church
         deserves the eulogy here given to other bodies. In my
         reading of history, especially in what are called the "Dark
         Ages" of Christianity, the Papal authorities winked at
         crimes against morality, so long as the sinners paid due
         deference to ecclesiastical authority, and bled freely, by
         pouring lands, treasures, and wealth of all kinds into the
         priestly treasury. The history of the Popes is written
         almost everywhere in blood. Murder, assassination, and
         spoliation were common weapons in their hands, and rape and
         robbery were condoned easily to those who were powerful and
         active slaves of the Church.

As soon as the Popes of Rome were free from persecution and danger, they, in their turn, used the arts of the tyrants of old, and sought for political supremacy by pandering to all the passions of kings and great men—if, by that means, they could make them friendly. Up to within a very short period there has not been a Christian despot, or a Pope, who has not punished political crimes more severely than offences against morality.

Yet, with all the fearful practices adopted by Romanists, they have ever had in their months exhortations to propriety and personal purity—their words have been peaceful, whilst war of the most malignant type has been in their hearts. What they have practised, however, they have accused their adversaries of having preached.

It may also be objected that some small sects in modern days have really preached the doctrines of "free love," and license in sensuality; but of these it would be unprofitable to discourse. The people who join in promulgating such doctrines are below contempt.

When controversialists find that they have one subject upon which they can all of them cordially unite, the philosopher would expect that they would study to develope it, and, for that purpose, place it in the foreground. But this is far from their practice. The ministers of every denomination, on the contrary, place morality far behind doctrine—those of the Protestant sect, for example, declare "good works" to be essentially valueless without "faith," and our pulpits teem with discourses which demonstrate the enormous superiority of a blind belief, in doctrine and dogma, over an intelligent morality, irrespective of creed.

In this propensity our preachers do not stand alone, for, in every instance where history has led us to inquire into this point, we find that submission to priestly rule has been regarded as more praiseworthy than virtue. When Israel slew the Midianites there was no apparent difference between the morals of the two people. Both were equally bad or good; but such as they were, their deeds were sanctioned by different gods; and whilst the Jews were right, their opponents were wrong. When the Crusaders attacked the Saracens, there can be little, if any, doubt that the worth of the latter far exceeded that of the former; but as their faith differed, the practice was of no consequence in the eyes of the invaders, and he who died in fighting for his country was execrated by the robbers, who desired to steal it.

If, from a comparatively distant past, we approach nearer to our own times, there is abundance of testimony to prove that the excellence of the French Protestants was superior to that of the Papal priests and their followers in the time of Louis XIV.; but this was of no avail—the good were persecuted by the bad, because they were good only in deeds and not in doctrine—the last being upheld by the bigots who persecuted them.

We may all see precisely the same phenomenon in our own day. Those who are called Unitarians, and the vast majority of those who are designated atheists are, in proportion to their numbers, far more moral than those who are generically described as "Christians;" but their integrity in every relation of life does not prevent their being abused and persecuted, by parsons in "the establishment," by every means available in a free country, and amongst the weapons used, the most common are slander and false witness.

On inquiry into its origin, we find at the root of this aversion to recognize probity as the most important item of religion, the undoubted fact that the upright, thoughtful man requires no other person to help him as a priest or a mediator between him and the Creator.

To possess a doctrine there must be some one to teach it, and the demand begets a supply. But though the last aphorism is true in commerce, it is not by any means universally so, for many an inventor of goods has to force a supply, ere any demand for his article can arise. It is certainly so in Ethics. The Jews made no request to Moses for a new religion when he offered to lead them; they soon became weary of him, and wanted to go back to Egypt. Jesus constrained his first followers to accept a salvation of which they did not feel the need, and Mahomet compelled, at the sword's point, his victims to accept that which they detested. In these instances there was no want to be met, except on the part of individuals who desired to obtain personal influence.

In religion the laws of supply and demand have only exceptional sway, for each individual priest or minister may, according as he pleases, elect to provide for known desires, or to inaugurate a new set of requirements. But whether he does one or the other he is clearly an opponent to, and frequently disliked by, any one who refuses all manner of traffic in spiritual affairs. He is then practically in the same condition as the English government was in when the Chinamen refused to take the opium which they had been receiving for many years before; and, like it, he must endeavour to enforce his wishes by war. But the parson does not fight with cannon and gunpowder, for he assumes the power to wield weapons of far greater importance—viz., the power to torture after death all his adversaries. "Believe me," run his words, "and you shall be saved from hell fire; reject my message, and you shall be burned in everlasting flames!"

When belligerent kings go to battle, they do not go alone and fight single-handed for their cause; on the contrary, they enlist upon their side every man whom they can influence or compel; nor do they care, so long as the troops obey orders, what their private thoughts are; probably few Chinese who fought the British were not opium consumers, and few English cared for the drug at all. In like manner, when priests differ among themselves, they do not meet in wordy tournaments, but they enlist on their respective sides everybody whom similarity in superstition, interest, or any other motive induces to join their standard. When an issue is joined, the result is governed by force of arms, arts, or numbers, as the case maybe.

Thus, in the last resort, the correctness of a doctrine is, as we have frequently remarked in previous pages, proved by thews and sinews—not by brains. So long as the Pagans were numerically superior to Christians, the latter were heretics and victims; but when the disciples of Jesus were actually the strongest, they became suddenly "the orthodox," and the poor Pagans "the damned." In later times Protestantism asserted its faith by the prowess of Cromwell's "ironsides" in England and Ireland; in like manner the Covenanters of Scotland proved, by the might of their swords, Presbyterianism to be superior to Episcopal government. By dint of Saxon might, Ireland was long politically at one with Great Britain; now by her numbers she is allied to the Vatican.

The well-read politician will see that a contest similar to those thus indicated is going on almost all over Europe. In Great Britain and Ireland, in France, Prussia, Austria, and Italy—even in the once bigoted Spain, priestly parties are striving for supremacy over the party of rational order and philosophical government. The question at issue is by no means doubtful—it is one which has been agitated for thousands of years, but that has never assumed large proportions in consequence of general ignorance and consequent apathy. In England, France, and Germany, innumerable champions on the one side have risen, fought, and died, overpowered by the numbers-ranged against them; but, as persecution is said to be the seed of orthodoxy, so these men and their writings have, by dissemination through the press, and the effect of increased education in the languages of Europe, gradually raised so large a party, as to be able to contend with some chances of success.

It will be seen that the question to which I refer is this—"Shall men and states be governed by faith?" in other words, "by the hierarchy of the most numerous section of the community—or by reason—i.e., by the good sense of the majority?" In Austria and in Italy this issue has clearly been tried, and in both instances the priesthood has been obliged to accept a secondary position. In Prussia the same momentous point is being tried with every chance of the sacerdotal party being worsted. In the British kingdom religion has long been regarded as subordinate to state policy; nevertheless there is yet a strong party who desires to reduce her inhabitants to clerical bondage. If all the individuals composing this section of the community were united, they would prevail by their numbers; but, as the aggressive army is composed of troops who bear an almost deadly hate against each other, small danger is to be anticipated from them. The Ritualist and Roman Catholic might unite together; but these would not stand shoulder to shoulder with the Wesleyan, Baptist, and Low Churchman. Although all equally detest those who say "parsons are not wanted," sects will not ally themselves, lest, if every one were to be compelled to select a form of faith, the compulsory decree might augment the numbers following some adversary.

We have thus placed before our readers what we believe is the first article which has to be considered in Reconstruction. We have to ask ourselves whether we should enlist ourselves under the banner of faith, and endeavour to add one form of religion to those already existing; or, whether we should join the banner of reason, and repudiate all doctrines, dogmas, credences, and the like, which are offensive to common sense. We may fairly parody the words of the mythical Elisha, and say to ourselves—"Choose ye this day whom ye will serve; if faith suits your indolence, then hug your chains; if you prefer reason, gird up the loins of your mind, and metaphorically kill the priests of Rite."

Ere, however, we can reasonably expect those who have hitherto been inconsiderate to make their selection of standard bearers, it is desirable to say something of the two. In limine we must observe that we do not believe that the choice will be determined by the head alone, for there are many whose arms are, so to speak, paralyzed by a constitutional peculiarity. A hero in his study has often proved a poltroon in the field of battle. I may point the moral by quoting from memory a story in Addison's Spectator—"A B is a hen-pecked husband; he knows it, and bewails his thraldom; he consults C D, who sympathises with his case, increases his detestation for the home tyranny, and tells him how to break the chains. A B, full of resolution, tries the plan recommended, but breaks down at once." The moral is, that those who are born to serve, or are too weak-minded to assert their independence, had better submit to be ruled—even if the tyrant be a woman, than try to gain peace by conflict. Into this story I fully enter, for I know, from experience, how much "nerve" is required for any one to change his or her relative position. The moral courage of which I speak, is one that dominates over constitutional shyness and fear; it differs from the boldness of a soldier, and the dash of the beast of prey; it is not a simple mental assent; but it is a motive which, after being once placed, becomes a mainspring of life. To adopt Faith as a guide, is to go through life easily—so long as "thought" can be sent to sleep. To adopt Reason, is to prevent thought ever slumbering, and to live the happier the more steadily that the mind is watchful In few words, Faith is "a quack doctor," Reason "a physician." The first will always have the most admirers.

Without further preface, let us inquire "what Faith really is?" This is a question with which I have been familiar since my childhood, and the answer offered to me for adoption was—"It is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen" (Heb. xi. 1). This reply has never suggested any distinct idea to me, and I am confident that the author of "Hebrews" had not a definite meaning in his own mind when he wrote the words. The context shows that the word [—Greek—] is used to signify distinct states of mind, and one example, which is given frequently, indicates a different signification from another that precedes or follows. For example, in v. 5 we are told that Enoch was translated by "faith;" but the only evidence for this is, that "he pleased God;" whereas, in verse 11, we are told that Sarah, who laughed at the idea of having offspring, and disbelieved the promise which said that she should have a son, conceived "through faith." Still further, the false history of the chapter disgusted me—e.g., we read in w. 24, 25, 27, that Moses by faith elected to bear affliction with the people of God, and from the same cause forsook Egypt, not fearing the wrath of the king, &c.—both of which statements are untrue, for he ran away both from the afflictions of the Hebrews and the wrath of the monarch, and required "pressing" before he would leave his retreat in Midian. I regard the chapter thus referred to as one of the great stumbling blocks of Christianity. Its logic is contemptible; yet it must pass for truth, because Paul is thought to have written it. Being now thrown back upon our own resources for a definition of "faith," we affirm that it signifies "uncompromising belief in what one is told." Every religious book which occupies itself with this subject illustrates the word in question by affirming that it resembles the motive which actuates a child who, at a father's bidding; leaps from a height upon the promise that papa will catch him in his arms.

Though, as a rule, I am disinclined to use adjectives, I have added the word in italics, because it is a material part of the definition, and involves more than at first sight appears. Peter tried to walk upon the water—he doubted, and began to sink. He has been imitated by others; they have all failed. "Doctor," a man may say, "can I swallow this without being choked?" "Yes, if you think you can." He tries to swallow the morsel, and is choked. The result in every case is attributed to a want of faith. In other words, hesitation cannot effect what confidence can. Consequently we are justified in asserting that faith and doubt are absolutely incompatible. Faith implies an absolute and perfect confidence. This faith may be compulsory—as when a shipmaster is obliged by local law to give up the management of his ship to a pilot; or it may be spontaneous, as when a patient trusts himself to a surgeon. For a man only to give a half confidence, is to cripple to that extent the capacity of the one who is responsible.

Religious faith, then, involves the necessity of an absolute and blind confidence in the priestly pilot selected as a conductor through life to eternity; it precludes inquiry, discourages thought upon the most important matter which every man has to consider, and makes of a rational being an intellectual slave. In few words, it reduces its votary to the position of a tool, and renders him, so far as religion is concerned, mentally blind.

We recognize the accuracy of our deductions when we find that the aim of the Roman church has been to reduce men to the condition here described, and then to use them as carpenters do planes, chisels, and axes. It is probable that there never existed in the world an order of men who have so completely reduced themselves, and voluntarily too, it must be borne in mind, to the position of a machine, as the Jesuits have done. They are an instrument in the hands of their superiors, and they blindly obey. Whether the order exists for good or harm, it is not my purpose to discuss.

Next in order to the society of Jesus comes the gigantic society known as the Papacy, or Roman Catholicism. I place this as second to Jesuitry, because, for a long period, there was a certain freedom of opinion allowed to the superior clergy. But now, when it has become a tenet of the church of Rome, that its head is absolutely infallible in all matters of dogma and doctrine, it is probable that the demand of faith from the laity may equal, if not exceed, that made upon professed Jesuits.

In religion, the only place in which uncompromising faith finds its home, is the Papal. That demands unlimited belief in everything ecclesiastically promulgated, hatred of everything dogmatically condemned, and acquiescence in every sacerdotal command. Amongst that sect, doubting is an offence, and opposition is a crime.

We have seen this illustrated in the person of the learned Bishop Döllinger, who has been excommunicated simply because he refused to accept the new fangled notions of an almost effete old pope. He cannot see anything in a modern council to supersede apostolic traditions; he doubts; therefore the Papalists do everything in their power to damn him. In like manner, although prior in time to the declaration of the Pope's infallibility, we have seen the present king of Italy excommunicated; because he, as the head of his own dominions, ordered a decree to be carried into effect which, whilst it was good for the people generally, was regarded as hostile to the church.

The observer need not, however, go far from home in search of illustrations, for every year sees one or another Protestant minister leaving the Anglican for the Roman communion, on the sole ground that in the latter there is no room for doctrinal doubts and contests. To the laity, the very repose of the religious mind is held out as a bait by Papal missionaries, and it is probably one of the most successful which "the fishers of men" employ. I once heard a brother physician express his opinion on this point. Conversation had turned upon a confrère who had been in religious matters "everything by turns, and nothing long." "Ah," said the Romanist, "he'll be tired of roaming some day, and find repose at last in the bosom of the church; his soul will then be at rest, and will wander no more."

The possibility of Protestants entertaining a doubt upon the power of "the Church" to demand unlimited belief and obedience from the faithful, is a sore thorn in the side of many dignitaries of the national creed. As this propensity to inquiry is an essential part of the legacy bequeathed to Englishmen by the reformation, this last movement has been execrated by some of our High Churchmen. It is asserted, that, as the taking of the Bible for the sole rule of faith has been followed by a great splitting up of the so-called "Church of Christ," so it is advisable to change the standard, and to adopt that of "Ecclesiastics" personally or collectively. In any case, such advocates desire to re-establish the reign of faith. What the Reign of Faith has been in Europe, it would be idle to describe.

As soon as the mind of an individual revolts from giving implicit faith to any creed, doctrine, or dogma, he must be regarded as a mariner who, being not quite contented with his own country, endeavours to find a better. In his voyage he first leaves the shore as a fledgling does the nest—he goes a short excursion, and returns; after a time he becomes more brave, and puts off more boldly. At first he probably finds a number of other barques as venturous as his own, and he becomes emboldened; it may be his arms are strong, his head clear, and his boat good; and he steers into the offing. No sooner does he leave the herd, however, than he is chased, and if he refuses to put back, curses follow him; and the friends whom once he had are condoled with. Such is the position of a Protestant who departs seriously from the religion of the majority. With or amongst the Romanists to leave the shore is an act of disbelief which must be atoned for by penance or punishment.

It is clear that every such individual who, like a chick, leaves the shelter of the maternal wings, must be more or less at sea. He or she may have no idea of going very far, yet may be compelled to sail on until he has reached the other side of Doubting Straits, and has landed in the realm of Reason. We can well conceive the waters to be covered by small "craft," which keep together for company's sake, or who boldly sail out and solicit followers—some cluster, it may be, round a stately galleon, others sail with a dashing cruiser, some come into collision or hostile contact with their neighbours, and try to damage each others' barques. But all are at sea—driven hither and thither by breezes which spring up, no one knows how, and drop down again as swiftly as they rose. The mariners, however, seem to enjoy the excitement, and refuse to return to their own land.

The individuals whom we here describe are the ordinary Protestant sects (not including the Unitarians, who have long reached a comparatively stable ground). These, by whatever name they are called, refuse to give implicit faith to the Pope; they will, however, accord, in some degree, to some pet parson, the management of their conscience; they dread what is called "free-thinking," as a mariner does a lee shore. They put up with every accident which arises from mingling faith with reason, and are, on the whole, contented, as long as too much pressure is not put upon them, to steer in a definite direction. Of these it may be said, "Thou art neither cold nor hot; I would thou wert cold or hot. So then, because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spue thee out. of my mouth" (Rev. iii. 15,16). The endeavour to make reason subservient to faith, must ever be a failure as complete as would be the endeavour to weld iron with water, or to heat an anchor shaft by surrounding it with cold coals and wood, then blowing a blast of air upon the whole. He who is determined to use reason, must drop faith; and he who clings to faith, must drop reason. The conclusions drawn by all who attempt the combination will always be lame and impotent.

If, in the stead of faith, an individual takes reason for his guide through this world to the next, he incurs the wrath and malignancy of the many, and the respect of the few. He comes in for far harder names than Pagans gave to Christians, and Papalists gave to Huguenots. If, unfortunately, he should live in a country where priests rule, he may be burned, as Savonarola was at Florence, Latimer and Ridley at Oxford, and Servetus at Geneva. Luther was said to be a devil—a so-called Atheist is believed to be something worse.

Yet, notwithstanding all the obloquy thrown upon Freethinkers by the orthodox, they steadily have increased in numbers, ever since the spread of education and the cheapness of books have enabled men to study in retirement When there was little instruction and few books, people gained what knowledge they had from their spiritual guides. This power of the pulpit enabled the hierarchy to set up and substantiate any claims which they chose. But, since the power of the printing press has risen, the influence of the priesthood has diminished. With all this tendency to so-called Atheism, there has been no loss of propriety; on the contrary, the probity of the few exceeds that of the many, and in all there is a great improvement. The present times in Italy are far superior to those when the Borgias and their religion were supreme.

When we inquire what the Freethinkers, or Rationalists, are, it is readily seen that they have been maligned by "the faithful." There is little difficulty in summing up their tenets: it is "Reverence, without servility." They draw their views from the book of creation, and hold it infamous to fight for supremacy where facts and logic can decide. This, however, is by far too meagre to satisfy either a friend, an inquirer, or an opponent; it is, therefore, desirable to go into the matter more fully. In doing so, I make no pretence to be the mouthpiece of a party, nor even to give a digested account of what those who have written and published before me have enunciated; my sole aim is to give, in as plain terms as I can command, the opinions which inquiry has forced upon my mind.

My first confession of faith must be negative, for, until the ground has been cleared, it is not advisable either to plant or construct:

1. I do not believe in the authority of any written book as being an inspired production, or as containing a revelation from God to man. In my estimation, the Bible is not in any way superior to the Koran, to the Dhammapada, the Puranas, the Main-yo-Khard, the Avesta, or any other collection of scriptures held sacred.

2. I do not believe the story given in Genesis of the creation, of the formation of human beings, and what is ordinarily called "the temptation" and "the fall".

3. I do not believe in the existence of what is technically designated "original sin," nor that the human race is "a fallen one;" consequently, I do not believe in the necessity for "salvation." I do not believe that death came into the world by sin.

4 I do not believe in the existence of "sin," in the ordinary acceptation of the word; nor do I believe that man requires the intervention of any fellow mortal, either to reconcile or embroil him with an unseen power.

5. I do not believe in the existence of a Devil, or of any other power in the whole universe, than that of the Supreme Maker of all.

6. I do not believe in any description which has yet been given of Hell or Heaven.

7. I do not believe that God has ever directly spoken to man.

8. I do not believe that God has ever become incarnate, or that he has a celestial spouse, or a son.

9. I do not believe in the existence of truth-speaking prophets, in the existence of angels, or ghosts, or in the supernatural birth of any one.

10. I do not believe that God has now, or ever has had, a separate and chosen people, peculiarly "His own," and, consequently, that there are none to whom the term "the elect" can apply.

11. I do not believe that what is generally designated religion is necessary to the existence of law and order in a state or in a family.

12. I do not believe that God requires the assistance of man, here or elsewhere, to enable Him to find, or to keep, or to punish, His subjects.

These negatives might be multiplied, but I doubt whether profitably so, inasmuch as the more we dilute important points, the less readily are they recognized. We may now proceed to affirmations:—

1. I do believe in the existence of a distinct Power in creation—great beyond conception, which pervades all space—which is everywhere present in the earth, the sea, the air, and in every conceivable part of the Universe—which made all things, and gave to them properties, powers, and laws. A power to which it were blasphemy to assign ears, eyes, hands, or human parts, and an evidence of a grovelling mind to suppose it capable of human passions, such as love, hate, jealousy, and merriment, and to describe it as ignorant, vacillating, and grieved at its own work. That Power I cannot conceive as having either an origin or an end. Into the designs of such a power, man cannot enter, nor can he even seem to approach them, except by noticing the works of creation, and studying the laws which apparently govern it By the term, "laws of nature," I understand "the laws of the power of which I speak." I cannot conceive how man can form an idea of a state of spiritual existence of which he can neither see, observe, or notice anything.

It is, in my opinion, unnecessary here to enter into the vexed question of the continued interference of this Power with its works, for where we have only human analogies to guide us, it is undesirable to argue upon them in the attempt to discover the superhuman. As we shall have occasion shortly to indicate our views upon a matter analogous to this, we will postpone anything which we may have to say.

I believe that the Power has never made, nor can ever make, a mistake; that all its works are perfect, and that where they seem to us to be otherwise, it is from our ignorance of their design.

It seems to me that lions and lambs, sharks and gudgeons, that hawks and chickens, form a portion of a grand scheme: that the distinct classes of animals were originally perfect; that they may deteriorate, yet never advance beyond perfection. I do not believe that a lion could become, under any circumstances, a bull; a bear a camel, or a pig an elephant.

2. The belief that the Creator made each creature originally perfect, and with certain well defined propensities, involves the further confidence that the indulgence in those propensities is a necessary part of the scheme of creation; consequently, I believe that the tiger eats flesh because it is a law of his existence, and that in doing so he commits no sin. I believe, still further, that a close observation of nature gives us some apparent insight into the plan of creation For example, I think the existence of gills in a fish leads us fairly to the conclusion that it was intended to live in the water; that the existence of teeth implies that they were to be used in eating, wings in flying, legs in walking. Still further, when we notice that vegetables can assimilate mineral matter, which animals, as a rule, cannot, I believe that the vegetable kingdom has its special place in the world; and when, moreover, we find creatures who can eat and digest vegetables, and have a special apparatus for the purpose, it is fair to conclude that they too have their station assigned. A corresponding remark applies to the carnivora. Once again,—when an extended observation shows us that the beasts and birds of prey select for their victims the young of animals which their parents are unable to protect, the aged, who are too infirm to fight for themselves, or the sickly, which are quite unfit to live: when, moreover, we find these carnivorous creatures die when age or accident deprives them of the power of getting food; nay, when we see large numbers of all animals die from want of food, of air, of warmth, or from accidents—I believe that we are justified in deducing the idea that it is a design of the Power, that those which cannot live shall die; I believe that death is as essential a necessity to every creature as is its birth, and that its many forms have a definite purpose.

Let us now, for a moment, turn our attention to the very commencement of life. If from any cause the new being is seriously malformed or diseased, it is a common thing for the dam to miscarry. If a mother, say a pig, rat, or bird, brings forth a larger brood than she can nourish, she commonly kills the smallest, and allows only those to survive which she can find food for—the bird that lays more eggs than her nest will hold, turns the overplus out; and if, when the fledglings grow up, they are too bulky, one of them will be discarded. The cuckoo's chick has a special provision made for helping it to turn out the young of another bird, and its mother has also a special instinct to lay its eggs in the nest of the hedge-sparrow. The life of one involves the death of three or more. Again, in the aquatic world, one fish makes no scruple to feed on its own young ones or those of its neighbours, and the old crocodile seeks out its offspring as a favourite luxury. We find, moreover, that where these creatures abound there may often be found a small animal—the ichneumon—whose instinct teaches it to seek for and destroy the eggs of the saurian. In like manner crows, rats, cuckoos, and probably many other creatures, have a propensity to feed upon the eggs of various birds. In few words, we recognize throughout creation an apparent design to prevent a superabundance of life.

This remarkable provision, working, as it does, through laws which seem to be fixed and established, prevents our belief in the interference of the Creator. When an animal has reached the period of nearly adult age, there is in many instances a considerable amount of instruction given to it, sometimes by the sire, but mostly by the dam. When that has been imparted, parents and offspring seem to be like strangers to each other.

It is probable that, if we could observe all animals, we should find some system of training of the family. As it is, we can only speak of domestic fowls, and notice the order which the hen keeps up amongst her brood of chickens; they are taught to live peaceably. Her punishments are never lenient; they are, indeed, necessarily severe.

We may next proceed to inquire into the animal instincts which exist in adult life, at a period when every creature is supposed to be in its perfection. At a certain time of the year there is a propensity for the male and female to unite. There is not anything in creation which affords a more attractive study than this, for every class of creatures has a practice peculiar to itself. One might fancy that in an act so necessary and so simple there would be little cause for interest; yet, in reality, "the prodigality of design"—a term which we hope to explain fully hereafter—is more largely shown in this process than in any other. It is, however, a subject upon which one cannot descant before the general public.

So far as we are able to observe animals, we find that at this period there is, amongst a great number of classes, a power amongst the males to discover the most perfect amongst the females, and to fight for them. By this means the young are certain to be the offspring of perfection of grace and beauty in the dam, and strength and size in the sire. We can readily understand that, if the loveliest hind were to pair with the weakliest stag, the breed would degenerate, and probably die out. But the conqueror can hold his place only so long as he has vigour; when age has weakened him, the youthful successor practically prevents the old buck from being a father. In some exceptional cases (apparently so at least) the number of males exceeds that of the females, and, as a result of the instinct before alluded to, the fight ends in the majority of the males being destroyed. The survivor then has one spouse only, and not a seraglio. This is said to obtain amongst rats and lions.

As yet, there is not a sufficient amount of observation available to enable us to affirm what is the general cause of exit from life, when no death by violence occurs. We do not know the end of old buffaloes, elephants, rhinoceroses, hippopotami, whales, and other monsters. Tales are told of decrepit lions being occasionally seen tottering to their fall; and gossip says that ancient cats know when they are about to die, and retire to some secluded nook, where they give up the ghost quietly. I cannot charge my memory with a single anecdote in which the youthful animal endeavours to sustain the old one, by feeding it during its decrepitude. Throughout creation parental affection signifies solicitude for offspring. We do not anywhere discover a love towards a parent after the younger creature has reached adult age.

In all the cases to which I have referred, and, were I a naturalist, they might be greatly multiplied, there is no pretence, even amongst the orthodox, that any of the creatures have committed "sin" against the Almighty, or against the community of which they form a part. On the contrary, what is done, even though it amounts to murder, is regarded as a necessity; and we admire the laws of nature which bring about such results. We do not stop to inquire whether any contrivance would prevent birds from laying too many eggs, and cuckoos from dropping theirs into the nests of other birds; we content ourselves with saying, "such is the will of Providence." It is easy to come to such a conclusion as regards what we are pleased to call "the lower animals," but as soon as we inquire "whether similar laws or instincts are implanted in us," we are generally met with a howl of repugnance.

But I believe that we shall never understand our true position in life and in nature until we deliberately investigate that which we have in common with other animals, and wherein we are different—probably superior. I use the word probably, because, in the estimation of higher beings than ourselves—if such there be—the horse and the elephant may be regarded as being far above us in the scale which those beings have framed for themselves.

I have never yet seen any deliberate attempt to work out the problem referred to. Every one, or nearly so, who if orthodox, assumes that it is absolutely wicked to compare the beasts which perish, to man who has a soul As I have, in a previous volume, shown that the evidence for the immortality of the horse is equal to that for the human race, I will not stay to point out the absurdity of building an important argument upon a baseless assumption, but simply express my belief that man has very much in common with other mammals; but that he is in possession of something superadded, which, at first sight—though not in reality—takes him out of the trammels of the ordinary laws of nature that operate in the brutes.

No one can doubt that man has as strong a propensity to unite with woman, as bulls and stags have with the females of their kind. He has, even in civilized societies, a propensity to fight with one or more of his fellows for a female of surpassing beauty. Men will combat about a disputed field or country as fiercely as dogs over a bone, or hermit crabs over a shell. As a rule, man detests to be taught, quite as much as does the whelp; yet, when he has gained an art, he is as proud of it as a highly trained spaniel. Men are gregarious as horses in a field, and quite as intolerant as they, of an interloper. Like the wild wolves, men will unite together to capture and prey upon creatures of each of whom individually he stands in fear. Like a set of wild bulls or buffaloes, men will, for a time, agree to obey a leader, and, when the object is gained, break loose. Like a cat, man will steal, when he can, his neighbours' goods, like a crow, he will pay no attention to his parents, nor to a Sunday.

Without entering into farther particulars, we may affirm that some highly trained elephants, dogs, and horses, are superior to many human beings in every point upon which an impartial judge can determine.

It is my belief that, for a man to obey an instinct which is implanted in his nature, is not "a sin" against God.

To see this in a fair light, let us assume, as we have a right to do, that it is an instinct in the nature of all known creatures, to increase and multiply their like. To avoid doing so intentionally, is a contravention of one of the Creator's laws. If this be so, then celibacy is a sin, as great, indeed, as if one were to refrain from food of all kinds; and no one can be considered as worthy of the name of good, who remains unpaired without just cause. In like manner, it is not an offence against the laws of God for any man and woman to unite, for it is as much a law of nature that they shall do so, as that they must eat and drink. The plea of "religion" cannot make that wrong, which is by nature right.

In like manner, if in a limited community—say upon an island, the number of men exceeds that of the women, I believe that a fight amongst the males for the possession of mates, would not be "sin" against the Omnipotent even though many combatants died during the contest.

Nay, so common upon many points is the agreement; amongst even the most orthodox, that none would say that a man commits a crime when he steals the store of honey laid up by bees, kills animals for food or for their fur, or covets and appropriates the prairies hitherto occupied by herds of deer and bison. Even the commandments said to be delivered by God Himself are held not to be literally binding upon man, except in relation to his friends. He may, for example, by the laws of war, murder his enemies, fornicate with their wives, steal their property, and deceive them in every way. Abraham, the so-called friend of God, murdered many Orientals, and plundered them; not because he had any quarrel with them, but simply because they had murdered and plundered some of his friends. David again, a man after God's own heart, with his dying breath, gave his son instructions to put individuals to death in cold blood, superseding the law of Sinai, by a heritage of hate. When, therefore, common consent takes certain actions out of the list of crimes or sins, provided that the deeds are done against enemies, we have to seek for the origin of those ideas which make murder, theft, robbery, rape, and false-witness crimes in the abstract.

To understand this point, we have really to start from the bestial basis, and aver that what is not sin in them, is not sin in savage man. No one of any intelligence would say that a Briton would be justified in shooting an Ashantee because the latter had killed and eaten an enemy, or an aged parent; nor would any one of us sentence a Hindoo to death because he had killed a dozen Thugs. Even in comparatively civilized American backwoods, a person who has killed a bully has been thought a public benefactor. Again, when we cast our eyes upon Australia, and learn the brutal way in which the black native virgins are violently carried away from their relatives and married, and how again they are repeatedly carried off as wives by other men, we feel ourselves justified in leaving the ravishers without punishment, for there is no violation of law, or, if there be, Englishmen have no right to interfere.

But what we tolerate in uncivilized lands, even where we are ostensibly rulers, we will not suffer in our own. The reason of this is, that we have banded ourselves into a society in which "the laws," once settled and determined by the majority, supersede, in certain cases, individual action.

To make our meaning clear, let us imagine that amongst some nation or people there is one man more astute and powerful than his fellows; still further, we assume that he has fought, or is desirous to fight, a neighbour of nearly equal force. It is clear that if his people murder each other from any cause he will lose warriors; consequently, he will let his tribe understand that he will punish homicide, on a plan which he thinks will be deterrent. Still further, as he requires soldiers of strong limbs and sturdy constitution, he declares that no woman shall many without his consent, so that he may prevent any one selling herself, or being sold, to a weak or old man for mere pelf. As, in a savage state, most possessions are those which are useful in war, he would prohibit theft. As a consequence, he, and all who respected his power to punish, would regard murder, theft, rape, and unauthorized wife-selling as crimes—offences, that is to say, against the ruler of the state, and not against the Creator of mankind.

It signifies little to my argument, whether society is governed, as the early Aryans were, by warriors, or, as the later ones were, by Brahmans. In either case the leaders make laws, and declare a violation of them to be punishable.

When communities are small in size, and extend over a small area, few rules of life are necessary; but when a nation increases in size, and especially when it consiste of many tribes or class which have voluntarily united together, legislation is far more complicated, inasmuch as the ideas of right and wrong in each section may, from long custom, vary from each other. For example, in most of the United States of America bigamy, or the possession of two wives at a time, is a crime; whereas, in Salt Lake city, its rulers have twenty, and its men a dozen, if they like, and yet are esteemed saints, and really conduct themselves as if they had a clear claim to the title.

The greatest complication is when the laws of a community have been framed, partly by soldiers, partly by ecclesiastics, and partly by mercantile men, for each party has a different creed. The first makes no scruple to fight at the command of the second, whilst the third endeavours to prevent all war whatever. The second set intrigue to have the supreme power; the first and third often endeavour to suppress the second, knowing its aggressiveness and lust of supremacy.

When a nation is under what is grandiloquently called a Theocracy, every offence against a command given ex cathedra is regarded as a sin; not simply a disregard of the law, but a defiance of the God who is said to have ordained it. Thus, according to what is known as the Mosaic law, it was a crime punishable by a lingering death to gather sticks on a Sabbath day (Num. xv. 32-36); but it was no crime to kill all the males and women of a whole nation, and retain the maidens for private prostitution and for the use of the priest (Num. xxxi. 17, 18, 40, 41). In such a nation it was no crime to commit forgery—and of all the bearers of false witness, none exceeded in ancient times the Jewish writers in the Bible—but in mercantile England, the former has been at one time punished with death, and the latter by ignominious penalties.

In modern Theocracies, such as once existed in Austria, Spain, Italy, England, and elsewhere, it was considered criminal to think differently, upon any religious point, from the authorized standard. In those kingdoms many a person was doomed to die a painful death, and thereafter sent—as it was supposed, to Hell—whom we now regard as a virtuous, brave, and noble individual.

The common sense of mankind induces all citizens to buy what they have need of, at the smallest possible price; but a mercantile government says to its people—"You shall not buy anything from anybody who has not first paid us for the privilege of trading, and something more for every ware which he offers for sale, and every one contravening this order shall be seriously punished." Here, again, an artificial offence is manufactured that has no origin in nature.

When a people has succeeded in throwing off publicly the trammels of Ecclesiastical legislation, as England, Italy, Spain, France, Austria, Belgium, and other nations have done, they by no means shake off their private shackles. The only difference between Spain, Austria, and other places, now and formerly, is, that the priesthood are seeking to attain by subtlety what they could previously command by their state power. At one period in the history of modern Rome, it was a crime not to kneel on the bare ground when certain priests passed with a bit of wafer surrounded by gorgeous trappings. This is a crime no longer against the state, but for all who believe the Papal hierarchy it is yet a sin.

At one time in England, it was a crime not to go to church on Sunday; it was equally punishable to carry on any business. The laws respecting these matters have not yet been repealed, and they have been put recently into operation, although the good sense of the majority has made them practically obsolete. Yet, though this is the case, and the law no longer punishes Sabbath-breaking, the priestly body continue to launch their thunders against all who regard every day alike. It is, indeed, doubtful if, in the eyes of our parsons, there is any sin so great as enjoying one's self on a Sunday. The law of our country does not make it a crime for a woman to prostitute her body, or for a man to have a concubine of greater or less permanency, but the hierarchs denounce the arrangement as criminal in the sight of God.

We need not multiply our illustrations farther. Sufficient has been advanced to show that there are two distinct classes of sins—one, those made by Ecclesiastics, or by those legislators passing under the name "Society;" the other, those which are against the laws of nature—e.g., an enforced celibacy, such as that to which Romish priests are doomed. In saying this, we readily allow that what is right, according to the laws of God, as set forth in the universe, is wrong according to the code made by the legally constituted authorities of the state in which an individual lives. We grant, moreover, that, if a government is strong enough, the laws of man should be enforced by human means. But we do not believe that mortals should be compelled to carry out that which priests tell them is the justice of the Immortal, of which they know absolutely nothing. I hold that no state can fairly claim to take cognizance of, or to punish, thoughts, or any private indulgence which creates no public scandal.

If we endeavour to reduce our views to a still clearer issue, the difference between divine and human laws will be the more readily understood. Let us assume that Miss Kallistee is the most perfect woman in a district. For her contend with their natural weapons Messrs. Dunamis, Kratos, Kalos, Sophos, and Mathesis; and the conqueror, having killed his adversaries, takes the lady to wife. The law of man or of society now steps in and kills off the survivor; or, if it should know beforehand of the coming contest, will prevent it. As a consequence, the lady must be contended for peaceably, and may become the bride of impotent old age or wealthy disease. As a result, the healthy offspring, which nature would have reared, are either absent, sickly, diseased, or idiotic. Here, then, I affirm that a law of society is a sin against God.

I would wish my readers to ponder over this matter, which gives much food for thought. I do not think that such contests as I have described can be tolerated in any society of civilized beings, for, in proportion to our emergence from barbarism, we do not seek mere strength and beauty of form in our population. We desire to cultivate the intellectual rather than the animal in man. But experience has shown that, as a rule, the further man departs from the latter, and the nearer he approaches to the former, the more does his progeny deteriorate physically.

It is a problem whether, by any available contrivance short of that which was adopted by the Incas of Peru, man can uniformly develope upwards. The physiologist can readily see how the matter might be effected, but in republican or constitutional kingdoms, the means will never be adopted.

We have now come to a point when it is necessary for me, as an individual, to express an opinion as to the selection which a philosopher, living in a comparatively civilized community, should make between a promulgation of the so-called laws of God—an instruction respecting the laws of nature—or an utterance of the laws of society, with the enforcement of them. Ere forming a decision, let us endeavour to ascertain what each alternative involves.

If a state, acting through its executive government, decides to make what are called the laws of God the basis of legislation, it must first decide what those laws are. In the endeavour to do so, every thoughtful man will recognize the impossibility of verifying a single one. The whole must, therefore, be promulgated on assumption; and if so, the legislators will be conscious that they have no valid authority. If, on the other hand, they assume the laws of nature to be a safe guide, they must allow proceedings which are opposed to the feelings of the majority of civilized mortals. Being, then, averse to elect either of these codes as a sole basis, the statesman will endeavour, as far as in him lies, to make or adapt laws for the society in which he lives.

When the well-being of the community becomes the basis of its legislation, the idea of sin vanishes from the statute book, and the stern realities of life have to be envisaged with firmness and decision. So also when religion has merged into common sense, and facts are appealed to rather than fancies, policy takes the place of dogma, and the voice of a majority overcomes that of any priesthood.

Into political economy, however, it is not my desire to enter, further than may be necessary to illustrate my own opinions upon religion.

Having emancipated myself from the thraldom of bibliolatry and priestcraft generally, it is my aim to examine what seems to be my duty as a man and an integer of society. I conceive that, although I have no certain knowledge thereof, I am one of the myriads of instruments by which the Almighty works out His designs. My appreciation may be imperfect, but still it seems to me a duty, always to be a good husband, father, friend, and citizen—to act ever towards others as I should desire myself to be treated under the same circumstances—to improve such talents as I am conscious of possessing; and, in a general way, to do as much good as I can during my lifetime—taking care, if possible, to leave after my death no mischievous agency set on foot by me. In few words, I believe that the only true religion consists in a constant steady performance of duty—a duty discovered and determined by the individual, and not one prescribed by any set of men.

The conclusion thus arrived at, appears at first sight, to be meagre in the extreme, but when it is fully examined, it is found to involve important consequences. The faithful, for example, or, as they style themselves, "the orthodox," live, when they pay any attention to such matters, in a state of perpetual fear of God and eternity; some, indeed we may say many, go mad from the oppression which they feel from having committed an unpardonable sin; some pass through life weighted by the dread of not being finally "saved"; all, with rare exceptions, have a horror of death and of the results of "the judgment." Feeling assured that few will be saved, and the many will be damned, they have a dreadful feeling of certainty that either they or some of their dearest relatives or friends will be amongst the majority. Some go through life sinning and repenting—"in dust and ashes," as the technical phrase runs—until they are ashamed of their own vacillation, or go on sinning, without any qualms of conscience, until it is too late to mend; and they recognize before them "a fearful looking for of judgment and fiery indignation." These fantastic terrors are far more deeply rooted in the Protestants than in the Papists, who have so completely become imbued with the belief that their priests have almost unlimited power in the unseen world, that the dying folk become easy in their minds, by a full assurance of hope that friends, hierarchs, and "masses" will make purgatory bearable and heaven certain. Of fear about eternity I know nothing; feeling confident that the God who made me—directly or indirectly it would be a waste of time to discuss—had some work for me to do here. I am quite content with whatever may be assigned to me hereafter by the same Power. Of a future state I am wholly ignorant. As an integer, I feel a sort of instinct that death is not absolute annihilation; but beyond that I do not now seek to know, for every source of intelligence is absent.

To some inconsiderate enthusiasts this may seem a cold belief, but in reality it is anything but that, for my days and nights are freed from that wet blanket of vague dread which makes so many mentally shiver; and my time is passed pleasantly in the alternate labour required by duty, and the repose necessary to recruit one's energies.

Let us, for a moment, consider what would be the condition of the world, if each individual conducted himself according to the dictates of a pure and enlightened morality, instead of according to the direction of a body of Ecclesiastics.

We may, I think, fearlessly assert that there would be no wars, no murders, thefts, adulteries, libels, violations of female purity; in short, every one would do as he wished to be done by. In such a people persecution would find no place, ignorance would not be permitted, and law would be unnecessary. Other desirable things would also take place, to which it is unnecessary to refer at large.

When all are strictly proper in every relation of life, I cannot believe that anything more would be wanting to make the human family as happy as it can be here. What, let us ask, would the orthodox declare was amissing? The reply is, to my mind, awful: There would be, first, the want of hatred and malice; then would be added the want of Hell-to which enemies could be sent, and of a Heaven, in which the faithful could feed their malignancy by watching the tortures of those whom they detested on earth.

In fine, I beg to express my own deliberate opinion, which has been growing stronger monthly since I first began to collect materials for this work, that those who can find nerve to sweep from their minds the trammels which have been woven around them by hundreds of generations of hierarchs, and adopt the simple faith which I have above indicated, will be far happier and better than ever they were before. No man will stand between them and God, and they will find Him infinitely more good and merciful than any of those who profess to be His agents.

There is yet another way by which the subject of "faith and reason" may be approached, and their antagonism tested. This is by considering how far the former is essentially human, and the latter divine—by which we mean, superior to the propensity which all mankind has in common. We recognize the importance of the inquiry, when we find Mr Gladstone, a Prime Minister of England, discouraging the action resulting from philosophical thought, because a man named Paul, some 1800 years ago, recommended his friends to hold fast that which he, and they, under his teaching, believed to be good. The speech of the Premier, which was delivered at a large Liverpool School, and was written with unusual care, held up, to a lot of schoolboys, the propositions of Strauss as something which were so bad, that the enunciation of them carried with it their refutation. Yet, at the same time, the speaker allowed that the German thinker was conspicuous for intellectual attainments, powers of thought beyond the ordinary run of mortals, sobriety in mental culture, and boldness in the enunciation of the conclusions to which his reason compelled him. In Mr Gladstone's opinion, such a man's doctrines deserved to be withered; not because they were opposed to reason, to logic, to the stern reality of facts, but because they opposed the prejudices of certain persons educated in a different style of faith.

If we inquire in what way the German philosopher and the English bigot differ, we can come to no other conclusion than that the one has used his intellect upon the dogmas which have been presented to his mind, from his infancy upwards, until they have been mistaken for fundamental truths, whilst the other has exercised his mental powers upon something beyond the doctrinal grounds on which his early education has been framed. The then English Premier, who had to direct the state, allowed himself to be guided by defunct men, precisely in the same way as Pyrrhus, Croesus, and others, were governed by the pretended oracles at Delphi, Dodona, and elsewhere. The man, in other words, who once wielded the might of England, and is conspicuous for his classical acquirements, is as much the slave of superstition as any ancient Egyptian or Grecian monarch, only his oracles are not the same as theirs.

It is clear, that when the speech, to which reference has been made, was composed, Mr Gladstone was under the influence of the belief, that what he had been taught, and had adopted, must necessarily be the only truth which can be relied on, at least, in its fundamental points. It is this very presumption, this lazy habit of mind, that was long ago pointed out by Bacon as being the most fertile cause of the retardation of science, and it is remarkable that Oxford, as an University, and most of its alumni, are still victims to the weakness referred to. It naturally follows in the train of what is called classical learning, when the mind is taught to remember rather than to think; and one easily believes that he can recognize in the late Premier the gradual development of thought, and can tell the epochs when cherished idols have been thrown aside, with the energy of one who is suddenly roused to exercise a powerful mind in an independent manner.

It would be useless to copy all the aphorisms by which Lord Bacon attempted to destroy the old philosophy, which, in his time, was most universally adopted, and to build up a new state of things, in which science should advance, but a few of them are of such value that they deserve recording. In Novum Organum, aph. 23 we read—"There is no small difference between the fancies [—Greek—] of the human mind and the ideas of the divine mind—that is, between certain notions that please us, and the real stamp and impression made by created objects as they are found in nature." That is to say, man commonly imagines things to be what he fancies they ought to be, and neglects what they really are. The learned aphorist then points out certain peculiarities of men, by which they are induced to cleave to the bad, and neglect the good.

Aph. 46—-"The human understanding, when any proposition has once been laid down (either from general admission and belief, or from the pleasure which it affords), forces everything to add to it support and confirmation. But this evil insinuates itself still more craftily in philosophy and in the sciences, in which a settled maxim vitiates and governs every other circumstance, although the latter be much more worthy of confidence." Aph. 47—"The human understanding is most excited by that which strikes and enters the mind at once and suddenly, and by which the imagination is immediately filled and inflated. It then begins, almost imperceptibly, to conceive and suppose that everything is similar to the few objects which have taken possession of the mind, whilst it is very slow and unfit for the transition to the remote and heterogeneous instances by which axioms are tried, as by fire, unless the office be imposed upon it by severe regulations, and a powerful authority."

We may paraphrase the preceding axiom thus:—Those who, from personal preaching, or by parental influence, have adopted a certain belief in the truth of that which has been taught to them as a "revelation," no matter who the individuals are, or may have been, who propound it, are loth, ever, to inquire into the real nature of the matter. Hence it is that "clairvoyance" and "spiritualism" have so many staunch adherents.

Aph. 56—"Some dispositions evince an unbounded admiration of antiquity, others eagerly embrace novelty, and but few can preserve the just medium, so as neither to bear up what the ancients have correctly laid down, nor to despise the just innovations of the moderns. This is very prejudicial to the sciences and philosophy, and, instead of a correct judgment, we have but the factions of the ancients and the moderns."

There are other aphorisms following, which point out the mischief of following certain theories, simply because they have been long accepted, and are generally supposed to be correct.

At the period when Bacon wrote, there was the same conservatism in science and philosophy as there had been in the Roman Church for ages, and very few, if any, had ventured to suggest the necessity for a radical change. In England the reformation of church and state preceded the reformation of philosophy; yet, there are many amongst us yet who regard all such changes as a mistake. We constantly find individuals who hanker after a despotic rule, by king or emperor, who cannot endure a church in which there is no tyrannical head, nor a science which only professes to advance, and refuses to be stationary.

Yet the thoughtful know how much the world would have lost, had it yet been prostrate at the feet of Aristotle and of barbaric Popes; and there is not a Christian who does not rejoice that Jesus prevented mankind from worshipping Moses, and adhering to Hebraic notions.

When, therefore, an individual, professing to be learned, scouts the propositions of a careful inductive and rigidly reasoning philosopher, simply because they violate generally believed notions; and when, in addition, he appeals to the ignorance and impressionability of schoolboys rather than to the mature judgment of adults, he proclaims himself, in that respect, at least, a bigot—of a dye as deep as those fanatics who urged on their fellows to suppress the discoveries of Galileo. But the matter does not end here. We recognize the necessity for a public man, who has once proclaimed his adherence to the doctrines of Revelation, and has preached the necessity for "faith," and its superiority over reason—however calm and rigid, to go further, and to proclaim that which he regards as Revelation, and who are the individuals he will receive as the interpreters of that so-called communication from God to man.

It is clear that the words which have been uttered by man require a human expounder; equally clear is it that, if the original sayings are regarded as being inspired, but, nevertheless, of doubtful meaning, they can only be cleared up by other men, who are, like the original oracles—"inspired." But, as a matter of fact, there are in our own times three distinct sets of individuals who lay claim to the faculty of interpretation; and these differ so amongst themselves, that certainly, at least, two, and very probably all, are wrong.

The man, then, who is disposed to make faith his guide must, in so far as Christianity is concerned, join himself either to the Greek or Roman Church, whose pretensions to a divine presence in their midst have been of the longest; or to the Protestant Church, which endeavours to oust the other two upon the plea that they cannot be under divine teaching, because they have become corrupt; and then, on the plea of having discovered the alleged faults, it assumes to have the authority which its predecessors have forfeited.

Thus, as we have frequently remarked before, man sits in judgment upon Him whom he calls his maker. The Protestant Churches, however, are the only ones who do not formally lay claim to having the divine presence amongst them in a conspicuous degree; they do not pretend to the performance of miracles, and they scout the idea that any modern representative of Jesus can do any wonders like those that teacher did. The Roman Church proves to the satisfaction of its votaries that "the Lord" is still with them, inasmuch as the presence of the Virgin, in a visible form, occurs to cheer her servants that trust in her intercession, and even pictures of her become instinct with life.

If, then, an individual is resolved to walk by faith alone in matters of religion, he is bound to join himself to that church wherein the divine founder is habitually and visibly present; to whose saints the saviour has appeared, and given stigmata like those which were produced in the original by the barbarous nails and spear of the Roman soldiers. For the votaries of faith—pure and unadulterated belief in things divine—the only legitimate home is the bosom of the Papal Church. Why, then, do not men, like Mr Gladstone, join it? Simply because their faith is not a pure and confiding one. It is tainted by the doubt whether the pretensions of the Roman See are sustainable, or by the certainty that Popish miracles are contemptible shams. They believe that Francis of Assisi made the stigmata, which he professed to receive from his "crucified Saviour," by burning his hands, feet, and side, with some strong caustic, or by a heated iron.

By these doubts, or certainties, individuals demonstrate that they are not in the list of the faithful; for doubt implies unbelief, and both are incompatible with faith pure and simple.

Whenever, then, a person confesses, by his words or actions, that he does examine into the grounds of his belief, he is logically bound to continue those inquiries into everything wherein there is a possibility of human error creeping.

When we pursue our observations further, and inquire into the reasons why a Papist believes certain things which a Protestant rejects, and vice versa, we find that, in the first place, each believes what he has been taught; he—to speak figuratively—imbibes his dogmas and belief with his mother's milk; and when he advances in age, is taught and imagines that he has mastered the stock arguments which are relied upon by the opposite parties. There is, therefore, on first sight, a reasoning power exercised by each; but it is not so, for the arguments themselves, and their force, are regarded as matters of faith—as weapons with which a warfare may be waged, but which, in no sense, are to be tested by those who use them.

As far as the common run of religionists are concerned, they are all in this "fool's paradise;" they fancy that they are secure, invincible, and mighty, because they take their own prowess and their opponents weakness as matters of faith. But when one of these comes into collision with another whose reason is exercised upon facts and the deductions to be drawn from them, the questions occur, possibly for the first time, Are the grounds of my belief tenable? am I justified in using my reason only in one direction? if I profess to argue, am I not bound to be logical? and if what has been given to me as sound meat, is rotten in reality, am I bound to eat it? can it do me good in any way? When a thoughtful man has arrived at this point, he has to elect between Faith and Reason. Then, if, like Mr Gladstone, he foresees to what his inquiries will probably lead, and is disinclined to pull down a cherished edifice, even to erect a better, he will naturally cling to the old belief, saying—"With all thy faults, I love thee still." With his eyes wide open he hails the banner of bigotry, no matter what may be the scutcheon which it bears.

Then come the important questions—"What right has any religious bigot to profess himself a liberal?" and, "With what face can a man, who refuses to exercise his understanding upon what he calls the most important part of life, i.e., the preparation for eternity, proclaim himself a friend of education?"

To insist upon the value of "learning" in forming the mind, and then to set the example of recoiling from the knowledge which intellectual efforts bring, is, in a statesman, a mean vacillation. Mr Gladstone ought either to proclaim that his ideas are those of the Jesuits, or to pronounce in favour of education, to whatever goal it legitimately tends. To say to boys—or men—you must learn to think; but you must only come to the same conclusions as myself, would disgrace a statesman of a free country, though such a proclamation would seem natural to a pope, or any other tyrant I do not, for a moment, assert that the then Premier of England did, in a written, and, therefore, a deliberate speech, to a large and influential school of boys, utter the words which I have used; on the contrary, he employed his rhetorical powers to express the idea, without either clearly understanding it himself, or giving the lads a clue to it. Had the meaning of the discourse been put into a few pregnant sentences, it may be doubted whether it would ever have been uttered.

If Mr Gladstone, like the mythical Elijah, had placed before his auditors, in naked words, the proposition—"Choose ye this day whom ye will serve, Faith or Reason," his discourse would have been clear. Even his own mind could not have painted the two as being the same thing; nor would a school-boy have failed to see that, in the future, he must elect between indefinitely expanding his intelligence, and materially contracting his intellect to the narrow limits prescribed by the faith of his parents.

To my mind it is sad to witness men of great general capacity, like the late Dr Faraday, and the past Prime Minister of Great Britain, shunning, in every way, an inquiry into the basis of their belief. We cannot regard this as a result of simple intellectual indolence, or ignorance. The only cause to which we can attribute it, is that weakness which, by most people, is called moral cowardice; a fear, not so much of Mrs Grundy—the world and its dread laugh—but the fear of some unseen, unknown, incomprehensible danger to themselves—of dangers that have no reality, except in an imagination which has been moulded long before the mind was capable of thought, but whose hold upon the individual is such, that he shrinks from the mental effort necessary to efface its impressions.

There is yet another phase of faith, which deserves a passing mention. It is that which declines to see or to hear a proof or an argument, lest it should be convinced against its will. There are many men amongst us who, in Scripture phrase, refuse to hear the voice of the charmer, charm he never so wisely. This obstinacy, stupidity, dogged-ness, or firmness, is quite compatible with a partially cultivated intellect, and is in itself a measure of intellectual capacity. I have heard, for example, a learned divine, but one whose writings are often so bemuddled, that the ideas which they contain are as difficult to discover "as a needle in a bottle of hay," declare that he would no more listen to an argument against the existence of "the trinity," than he would open his ears to hear evidence that his wife or mother was adulterous.

Such strong asseverations we may sympathize with, and even admire; but they prove nothing beyond the impracticability of an individual mind, or what, in some cases, takes its place—viz., the injudiciousness of acknowledging a truth, when the enunciation of a belief in it would be followed by unpleasant consequences.

Again, I know of another divine, who has steadily refused to inquire into the value of what are called "the Christian evidences," his reason being, that he is conscious that inquiry would shake his confidence in the doctrines which he teaches. He clings to what he feels to be a sham, lest others should, by his means, regard it in its proper light.

Another divine, who has not feared to be an inquirer, is incessantly persecuted by his brethren, not because he has asserted his intellectual freedom, but because, by having done so, he has, by implication, cast a sort of odium upon those who hug their mental darkness. His argument is—Can a man who hates the light be worthy to speak of the "Sun of Righteousness?" Their reasoning is based upon the assertion, that those who live in darkness, and like it, need not be told about a luminary. If people chose to believe that the moon is made of green cheese, it is more profitable to talk to them about its connection with the milky way, than to say that the notion is absurd. Faith teaches that, where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise; whilst reason only impels one to habitual thought or mental worry.

Other divines of my acquaintance have used their reason in a twofold way: they have ceased to hold their first faith, yet they hold their "livings," as they have no other means of subsistence; whilst a few have, with their advancement in knowledge, paid for their knowledge by embracing poverty.

The world treats those who walk upon the ground with a far greater injustice than it treats those who lie beneath its surface. For a man who disturbs us in our fool's paradise, more feet than hands are used; but to him who only disturbed the father's complacency, and taught the son in youth, we erect memorial statues. Jesus was crucified when he was alive, and deified when dead. His apostles were persecuted when living; now that they are deceased, they are called saints. Savonarola was burnt alive at Florence; now his memory is cherished, and his worth fully known. Luther was detested when he was able to thunder in men's ears; now he is regarded as a son of light. The present Pope, Pio Nono, has found an obsequious council, whose voices have declared him to be infallible—a god upon earth; the time will come when that Pope, and that council, will be regarded as the personification of blasphemy and folly. The days of Faith will be everlasting; but her power to act wickedly will be curtailed more and more. The reign of Reason advances every year, for it is allied to thought and knowledge; and we may fairly hope that the old adage will be true—Magna est Veritas et praevalebit.

It may be said that, in the preceding parts of this essay, I have wholly lost sight of, or, at least, have not referred to the argument—or the statement, made by the upholders of faith, as a rule of life—that reason has nothing to do with things divine, and that where God has made a direct revelation of His will to man, no human being has a right to criticise or object to it.

This kind of remark is in the mouth of every preacher, and each minister who utters it imagines that he deals a blow so very heavy that nothing can stand against it. But in reality it is only a big bubble, which collapses when it is touched. "How," for example, we may ask, "can anything be recognized as divine, unless human judgment is passed upon it? or, How can any revelation be accepted, unless the mind has examined the messenger and the message?" Who would believe the ravings of a lunatic, even though he told us that God had sent him with a message to man? Why do Christians, as a body, reject the revelation made to Mahomet, and the frequent inspirations which give laws to the latter-day saints? To these queries the reply is—"Because we know that God does not speak to man now, and that when the bible was closed all revelation ceased." But when we inquire into the reason for this belief we can find not one. Every theologian must allow that the God who spoke once to Moses spoke again; that He supplanted one dispensation by a second, and has promised a third.

Thus we see, that by their own books, the orthodox are bound to believe that supplementary communications must be made to the human race; consequently, when any one asserts that he is a divine prophet, his pretensions are examined. The faithful Christian disbelieved in Mahomet; the trusting Arabs believed in his mission, and fought for their creed. They, like orthodox divines of to-day, refused to use their reason in things divine, and to cavil at a revelation, Unable to agree, the followers of Jesus, and those of Mohammed, fought, the latter almost annihilating the former for a time, thus proving the value of their faith. Both parties had a firm belief—the one in the prophet of Nazareth, the other in the prophet of Arabia; and no reasoning could have convinced either that his trust was misplaced; nor, to this day, has reason convinced the Mahometans that Jesus was superior to Mahomet, or the Christian that the Arab sectarian was a prophet at all; and it is singular that both parties call in reason in attestation of their respective creeds.

Is, then, the sturdy English theologian to be content to leave the followers of Islam alone, because they have faith? or, must he still endeavour to convert them by the use of reason? Can the Christian adopt the belief that Mahometan and Mormon are both orthodox because they have faith? and that the Jew must still be dear to Jehovah, inasmuch as he still clings closely by faith to the revelation given to Moses and the prophets? If this cannot be done, how can the follower of Jesus hope to convert others to his belief, unless by the use of reason? If, then, the theologian uses reason as a weapon against heterodoxy, upon what ground can he object to its being employed by another? Latter-day saints have made many proselytes in Christendom, and a Mahometan floored in debate the late pious Missionary, Henry Martyn, whose propositions were met by counter ones, and every one of whose arguments was taken up and retorted, the names only of the persons spoken of being changed. "I know," said the one, "that God spoke to us by Christ Jesus"—"I know," said the other, "that Allah spoke to us by Mahomet" "You are wrong, my friend," said one, "Allah has not spoken to man since the last Apostle died." "You are wrong," said the other, "God has spoken to us long after that. You may call Mahomet an apostle, if you like; we call him a prophet of Allah, and know that he was one." And so controversy goes on now where there is faith without reason.

It is clear, then, that truth cannot be established by any number of people thundering out "I believe it," and by their victoriously fighting for it. The argument, therefore, which I may be accused of omitting, is of no value at all; it is sheer nonsense—a windbag, or, perhaps, it may best be compared to a boomerang, which, when badly used, recoils upon the person of him who threw it. Of such arguments theology is builded up.

## CHAPTER XII.

         Honesty.   A question propounded.   Are "divines" honest?
         Meaning of the word.    Learners and teachers—their
         relations to each other.    Honesty expected in a professor.
         Teachers of religion are trusted—they are bound to be
         faithful.   Political rights of men in respect of the clergy
         of the Established Church.    Right to see that religion is
         not adulterated. Man's right to truth.   What truth is not.
         Assertions required at "ordination."  Canonical Scriptures.
         Verbal inspiration.   Doubts of laity.   Two schools—those
         who will and those who will not inquire.     Rev.   Dr
         Colenso.   Rev. Dr Browne.   Precious stones and "paste."
         How should a doubt be tackled—by inquiry,  or  by ignoring
         it?    An   analogy. Compass and bible.    If compass wrong,
         why steer by it?   Passenger and captain—one appeals to
         stars, the other to his owners and the seamen under him.
         Precision of Colenso—his words falsified so as to be
         confuted: this is not honesty.    Is Bishop Browne honest in
         controversy? Tabernacle, temple, doors, &c.   The Speaker's
         Commentary not an honest book.    Papal falsehoods; false
         decretals; false letter from Prester John. Pious frauds.
         Influence of dishonest teaching on education.    The point
         involved in sectarian discussions.   Lying miracles—are
         they promulgated honestly?   Is it honest in religion to
         promulgate that which we knew to be wrong, or which we dare
         not inquire into for fear of consequences?    Do Papal
         authorities believe in the annual miracle at Naples?  The
         Protestant Church judged by a ruler of Siam.    Bigotry, by
         not inquiring, does not establish truth.    Each man who is
         deceived has a propensity to deceive others.   The masses
         agree to be deceived.    Mr Gladstone on education. His
         proposition that inquiry is bad if it leads to change of
         religious opinions.   Anecdotes of stupidity.   Sailing in
         search of truth.    Captains who avoid the right course.
         The condition of society when the schoolmaster overrides the
         ecclesiastic.    Reason and education ought to precede
         faith. Result of honesty.   Divines recoil from the honest
         truth.    Parsons in their pulpit preach what their week-day
         precepts oppose.   Honesty in ecclesiastical matters is not
         the best policy.    Divines and the silversmiths of Ephesus.
         Examples.    An honest parson is persecuted by his fellows:
         this insures mediocrity and bigotry.   If an author cannot
         be persecuted he is avoided.    Ecclesiastics persecute
         their colleagues, but do not prove them wrong.
         Excommunication easier than refutation.   What an honest
         merchant and divine should do when they discover a diamond
         to be paste. Ought the divine to be less honest than the
         merchant?   The Author's challenge.   Conclusion.

I am now about to propound a question which I have heard mooted in quiet by many, but for which publicity seems to be dreaded by all—viz., "Is there honesty amongst Christians, and especially amongst the hierarchy of the Churches of England and Rome?"

No one can doubt the importance of the subject; there is not a thoughtful person who does not, in words at least, scorn to build up his everlasting belief upon a fable, and who does not affect to be disgusted with everyone who is deliberately untruthful I speak not now of those time-servers who regard every artifice to be fair in love, war, and theology; but only of those earnest minds who are anxious to seek out and to hold fast that which is true, and who, under all circumstances, resolve to be honest with themselves. That there may be no doubt as to the sense in which I use the word, the following may be regarded as, in my opinion, the synonyms which are properly given in Webster's Dictionary—"Integrity, probity, uprightness, trustiness, faithfulness, honour, justice, equity, fairness, candour, plain dealing, veracity." To this may be added—"not bearing false witness."

Presuming that English scholars agree in this definition, let me now inquire whether "we"—by which term I mean the non-theological class by profession—have a right to expect "honesty" amongst our teachers—be they Roman, Anglican, Hibernian, Scottish, Unitarian, Wesleyan, or of any other body? and, in the next place, whether we get that to which we are entitled? Presuming that it is necessary to begin with the foundation, let us first inquire into "our rights," and whence they are supposed to be derived.

The positions of a learner and a teacher—or a disciple and a master—are, in some cases, different to what they are in others; for example, I need not, unless I think it desirable, learn astronomy, chemistry, the art of telegraphing, or that of ship-building; but if I do elect to learn any of these matters, and engage a man to instruct me, I have a legal claim upon him for his services. There is, indeed, a contract between us—he engaging to teach me, and I agreeing to pay him for his labour. In my selection of a professor, it is quite possible that I have not chosen the best; nay, seeing that I require to be taught, it is nearly certain that I cannot assume the position of a judge as regards the superiority of one teacher over another. But when the agreement is once entered into, each of the parties is bound to perform his part of the contract to the best of his ability. If, for example, I bargain with a master to teach me Spanish, and I, being wholly ignorant thereof, am instructed in Portuguese, I have a definite legal claim for redress.

If, on the other hand, the law, or the custom of the country, compels me to take a certain class of teachers, whether they are competent or worthless, I, as one of the community, am justified in investigating the intellectual power of the professors, individually and collectively, in every way in my power.

At one period, when autocracy, or tyranny, was supreme, this right was denied, and the legislators made it a criminal matter for any one to call in question the nature of the instruction which was given to the people in matters of politics, religion, and other things, wherein the government was concerned. At the present time there are few, if any, states whose ruling powers demand from the people such an abject submission.

But, although a republic may allow unlimited latitude of opinion in matters of political economy, there may be a religious section within it, which consists of those who consent to be led, in matters of faith, by certain individuals, who, on their parts, are declared to be, by some power that the laity are disposed to submit to, the only persons competent to conduct persons to a happy eternity.

Every individual in such a family is associated with the rest by voluntary ties. He may, if he chooses, inquire into the capacity of his guide; he is at perfect liberty to analyse his arguments, to inquire into his allegations, and, speaking generally, to test his truth. If, as a result of the investigation, any one is satisfied that the teacher is incompetent, the two are perfectly clear to make new engagements. There has been no definite contract, nor can there be any legal claim for a presumed breach thereof.

When, on the other hand, there is a State Religion, supported by Parliamentary authority, and to which, in one way or another, the majority of the people must subscribe, each man has as perfect a right to see that he gets what he pays for, as he has to see that the member of parliament for whom he votes, does not neglect the interests of the town which he represents.

As an Englishman, I have no right to call in question the power of the Pope of Rome, the Patriarch of the Greek Church, the Elder of the Mormon Communion, the Arch-Pneuma of the Spiritualists, or any other religious head, to teach his followers any doctrine that he may please. I may laugh at the "false decretals" of the papacy, and the charlatanerie of the clairvoyants; but no political right supports me in my calling them to account for their stewardship.

On the other hand, when I know that the bishops of the Church of England are parties to the formation of our laws, and I find myself called upon to pay tithes or dues to individuals of the same establishment, I have a political right to ascertain, that the persons actually do what they profess to do for their money or position. If, for example, I live in a sparsely populated district, I and all my family are dependent upon the parson of the parish for instruction how to get to heaven; or, as an alternative, if I do not agree with his doctrine, I may abstain from being instructed at all. If, on the contrary, I inhabit a large town, still I am dependent for religious teaching upon the state clergyman, unless I elect to do without him, and any one else of the same persuasion, or select some non-conformist preacher who is to me no less offensive than the parliamentary parson.

When a confraternity has obtained, no matter how, or by what means, a definite prescriptive right to sell a certain material to the community at large, the latter have certainly a legal power to see that the stuff given is according to contract. If a company of millers engage, for certain privileges, to sell good wheat flour to all comers, the last can deprive them of their exclusive right, provided that it can be proved either that the flour is bad, or that it comes from barley, rye, oats, or potatoes, or is adulterated with gypsum, &c.

Presuming that this argument is tenable, our next inquiry is into that which our national church professes to sell, or to impart, in return for its privileges. In the fewest possible words we may say, that its duty is to impart "truth," or to teach what is, in its learned and educated opinion, the true religion for life and eternity.

The word truth is one which lies at the root of our question respecting honesty. Pilate is reported to have said—"What is truth?" We may put the same question now.

Without saying what "truth" is, we can readily declare what is "untruth." It is not truth if we, in argument, misrepresent an adversary; affirm that he made a certain statement, and then oppose—not the thing said—but some other matter which was not spoken of at all, and then assert that we have confuted him.

It is not truth to affirm, that observations recently made have been oftentimes presented before, and always successfully refuted, when the remarks in question are novel, never have been controverted, and apparently, are not capable of being disproved.

It is not truth to affirm, that human "authority," which, has been long acknowledged, can falsify "a fact," or make an unfounded assertion equal to a reality; or to declare, that one religion is good and another bad, simply because the speaker believes the matter to be so.

It is not truth to assert, that a certain book, and every part of it, is the revealed word of God, when it is known to be contradicted by science—i.e.t by a knowledge of the laws imposed on creation by its Maker, to be inconsistent with itself, and to contain internal evidence that it was composed by men of small knowledge and of grovelling disposition.

It is not truth to affirm, that if God's world proves what is called God's Book to be wrong, science must be neglected and the Bible upheld.

It is not truth to affirm that God spoke exclusively to one people, when it is known that the race in question drew nearly, if not quite, all their religious beliefs, from the neighbours amongst whom they were thrown.

It is not honest to propound in the pulpit the propriety of examining the Scriptures daily, and yet to persecute any one who by doing so becomes convinced of their human origin.

It would be honest, and prove the existence of a love of truth, if every preacher of every denomination spent as much time in trying the value of his text-book, as he does now in expounding it and explaining it away.

We should imagine that a minister loved truth, if he were first to ask himself how he treats the Vedas and Puranas, the Avesta, the Koran, the Apocryphal Gospels, the Apocrypha, the Book of Mormon, the visions and prophecies of "Latter-day saints," "Friends," Roman visionaries, and the oracles delivered at Delphi and elsewhere, and then to treat his own book with the same measure as he used with the others.

On the other hand, we should regard him as untruthful and dishonest, if he weighed the books and belief of others with weights and scales different to those with which he tried his own.

From each minister of religion the people have a right to demand an impartial inquiry into the absolute value of the doctrines which he teaches, and an investigation into the foundation, as well as the superstructure; and they may require, still further, that he, like Great-heart in Bunyan's story, shall do battle with assailants. When such a leader professes to fight, but always avoids the shock of battle, he cannot be regarded either as honest, or as comparable with Valiant-for-truth in the Pilgrim's Progress.

We are then, as laymen, justified in requiring that our spiritual leaders shall take a conspicuous part in examining the grounds of the faith which they teach, and that the leaders of the Established Church shall seek to establish its doctrine upon as firm basis as it is possible to obtain.

This certainly involves inquiry and discussion upon those points which modern criticism has prominently advanced.

When we turn to the "Prayer Book," we find that Deacons are required to say, that they unfeignedly believe all the Canonical Scriptures. Priests are obliged to affirm that the Holy Scriptures contain sufficiently all doctrine required of necessity for eternal salvation, through faith in Jesus Christ, &c. In the consecration of bishops the same, or nearly the same, formula is gone through. Thus, at the outset of their career, the ministers of the Church of England commit themselves to, or are required by law to make, a declaration which will preclude inquiry into the value of the book on which their teaching is founded; their first step in the ministry puts it out of their power to be honest, if experience should teach them more than they knew when young. The bishops and priests, however, when they subscribe to the opinion that the Bible contains all things necessary for salvation, do not pledge themselves to the belief that every sentence, part, division, book, or arrangement of the Canonical Scriptures is, and must of necessity be, true. Even in the dawn of ecclesiastical information in England, there was not a belief in the verbal inspiration of the Bible.

Of late years, when habits of thought and the art of printing have increased, the knowledge, and consequently, the power of the laity disproportionally to the advance made by clerics—a strong propensity to accumulate facts, and to argue thereupon has been very generally developed, and the increased information obtained has induced steadily increasing numbers to doubt, not only the verbal inspiration, but even the historical truth of the Scriptures. When this difficulty occurred, or rather, when it became recognized, scholars, no matter whether they were professional or amateur ecclesiastics, divided themselves involuntarily (we may fairly say, unknowingly, inasmuch as each individual worked quite independently, in the first place, of another) into those who believed that, if the Holy Spirit dictated the Scriptures, he must have seen that his amanuensis wrote correctly; those who imagined that the Bible was to be taken "in the lump;" and those who considered that the Scriptures are entirely of human origin, and absolutely valueless as a guide of faith. Consequently, three schools have arisen, two of which are essentially ecclesiastic. Of these, one regards all inquiry into the accepted text as improper, the other considers that everything should be done to verify the value of the so-called original Scripture.

Amongst the latter, Dr Colenso, Bishop of Natal, stands out conspicuously. Of the highest intellectual attainments, trained to close and scientific inquiry; able, far better than men of meaner capacity, to weigh the value of "evidence," whether "ancient or modern," he has drawn the conclusion that the Bible is not what it is generally supposed to be; in other words, that its historical portions are not trustworthy, and that there is grave reason to believe its writings to have been produced for a purpose, which involved dishonesty in the scribe, and in the promulgator of his writings. The learned doctor was honest in his investigation, and fearless in announcing his conclusions.

As an upright man, the Bishop of Natal is as completely justified in his inquiry into the validity or importance of an ancient book, alleged to be a pearl of great price, a gem or diamond of the first water, as the official curator of a museum would be, in determining whether a certain ruby, given into his charge, were real or artificial. Of the necessity of such an inquiry, the following anecdote, which was told me by the gentleman concerned, will convince the reader:—

A wealthy lady, of high position in life, sent to a museum, for exhibition, a number of "precious stones." If they were really what they were supposed and stated to be, their value would have been reckoned by thousands of pounds sterling. If accepted as genuine, and found, upon their restoration to the depositor, to be imitation jewels, the curator would be liable, not only for their value, but his character for honesty would be gone; consequently, ere he gave a receipt for the lot, he tested each. Not one was real!

This man was in the position which Dr Colenso occupies now. The owner of the jewels was indignant at the idea that the stones were false, and the apparent insinuation that imitations were being foisted on the public as realities; but her fury did not alter the fact. If she were artful, her plan was detected; if she had been deceived, her anger, though useless, was justified.

On the other hand, there are many Bishops who uphold the verbal inspiration of the Bible, and will not inquire if the gem be real, or only test it by plans known to be valueless for the purpose. Some do not go altogether so far as this, They consider it obligatory upon them to examine just a little bit, but not to go too deeply, lest they should be forced to believe that there never was such a man as Moses—a man who is commonly reported to have written certain books at a distant period. Some persons seem to think that their hope of happiness in this, as well as in another world, and not only their own, but that of everybody who is under their instruction, depends upon their feeling sure that Israel was once in Egypt—that Abraham begat Isaac, and became the progenitor of an innumerable offspring, exceeding in number the Indians of Hindostan, the Assyrians of Mesopotamia, the Egyptians of the Nile, and the Romans of Italy. Between these two inquirers, if the latter class can fairly be called such, the issue is distinct. There can be no difficulty amongst scholars as to the means by which the question ought to be settled.

An appeal to hard and dry facts is the plan adopted by philosophers. For men, who have a single eye to discover the truth, it matters little in what direction their inquiries lead them. Metaphorically speaking, they may begin a series of investigations, expecting that everything will lead them northwards, and they end by reaching the south; just as many an enthusiastic, but little instructed, man has accumulated "pyrites," under the impression that it was an ore of gold, and found, on inquiry, that the material was a sulphuret of iron, and of small commercial value.

But it is this very possibility of research bringing them to an undesirable goal, which deters so many of our divines from making any inquiry. Outwardly, they allow that it is their duty, as leaders, to examine, not only the condition of their own forces, but the position and power of those who assail the army which they profess to guide. Inwardly they find reasons for remaining quiet, and excuse themselves to their followers in some plausible fashion.

Why, however, should any goal be undesirable which leads us nearer to truth? Why should any body of professedly learned-men run the risk of being considered wanting in honesty, or candour, by avoiding their opponents, whom they are in honour bound to encounter?

The reply to these questions generally runs thus:—"We, as ministers of the Established Church of England, are bound to be faithful to the Bible, and to it we must adhere, whatever our own private judgment may be. We did not make the law; we simply take it as we find it, and, having sworn to obey it, we do so." This answer would be exhaustive, if it were the fact that the laity made the law for the theologians. But, as we know, that the ecclesiastics have, in the last resort always made laws for themselves, the rejoinder is not conclusive History tells us how ministers of religion have instructed the people, and how these, again, have legislated under the tuition of their advisers. When Paganism was supplanted by Christianity, the change was effected by preachers, who taught the populace to believe the new doctrine, and who influenced the minds of the lawmakers. In like manner, when Popery in England was put down by the Protestants, each party was headed by its priests. Many a minister, at that period, felt bound to follow what he believed to be truth, rather than to abide by a vow made in youth; and they who had upheld the authenticity of Popish miracles, and of Apocryphal Scriptures, ceased to give credence to them, or to use them as authorities in matters of religion. These men were honest.

That which has been done by men aforetime, may be done or imitated in our own day; and our divines have as great a power to examine into the value of the Bible now, as they had at the Reformation. If they refuse to make the inquest suggested—in what way, may we ask, do they differ from the Romanists in the time of Luther, who would not inquire into the truth of his arguments lest they should be convinced? Can any one who professes to be a Protestant—a child of the Reformation—honestly refuse to investigate the grounds of the faith which is in him, and shelter himself, as Bonner and others did, under the pretext of a declaration or vow made at ordination?

If those who make the excuse just referred to, are honest, they are bound to reject every doctrine which they, or their predecessors, have received from Romish priests, who propounded in adult life, doctrines different to those which they professed when yet almost children.

To illustrate the tendency of our remarks still further, let us, for a moment, suppose that the captain of a ship has, from any cause whatever, adopted a particular "compass" by which he directs his course, and which perhaps he calls by the name of Faith. All in the vessel are, to a great extent, dependent upon him for a successful voyage, and a safe arrival at the desired haven. Seeing how the master-mariner honours the magnetic needle, every thoughtful passenger will probably consult it in like manner. One more advanced in knowledge than the rest may desire to test the instrument by the position of the pole star, and thinking that he could recognize the latter, might infer that the magnet did not point truly. This doubt, we will imagine still further, he imparts to the captain, who, disinclined to distrust his compass, endeavours to demonstrate that the position of the pole star is doubtful.

In the place of the mariners' compass let us read the "Bible," and, instead of the pole star, let us substitute "science." We shall then recognize the position of such men as the Bishop of Winchester and Dr Colenso—the latter endeavours to test the value of the instrument which is most used by churchmen by certain well-known means; the former, on the contrary, aims to demonstrate that what he regards as a true indicator is so in spite of all which the planets prove to the contrary.

To carry on our metaphor a point further, let us imagine that the captain and the doubting passenger appeal to the seamen and the other people on board the barque—the latter telling in simple terms the grounds of his belief, whilst the former appeals to the passions of those who have long trusted him, and only notices the arguments of his opponent to misrepresent them. This is what was done by the Papists, in every country, at the time of the Reformation, and which more recently has been done by the Bishops and Archbishops of the Church of England, when in controversy with the Bishop of Natal Dr Colenso has in voluminous works, and with a precision which every scholar must admire, shown that the Old Testament—the "compass" of churchmen—is not what it is supposed to be. Against his views a new "Bible commentary" has been issued, with the sanction of the highest ecclesiastical dignitaries; and in it the authors stoop to misrepresentation! If there were no pretence of joint authorship, one might imagine that each writer was responsible only for his own shortcomings; but when there is a parade of great names, which is intended to demonstrate the almost infallible truth of everything (except typographical errors), one is bound to treat the contributors as being on a level with each other, and all hierarchical coadjutors. How can any one, with a tendency towards fair dealing, characterize but with the epithet "contemptible dishonesty," a deliberate quotation from Dr Colenso, which is falsified, that the fabrication may be refuted? The Bishop of Natal's argument is a just one, and, although it is only contained in a note and not in the text itself, is of great weight. It runs thus (Part v., p. 97)—"Of course the fact that the tabernacle at Shiloh had doors (1 Sam. iii. 15)— that the lamp was allowed regularly to go out in it (1 Sam. iii. 3), and that Samuel slept in it, and apparently Eli also (1 Sam. iii. 2, 3), are sufficient to show that this could not have been the 'Mosaic Tabernacle.'" This is a fair and scholarly statement; the layman recognizes it as such, and looks to his ecclesiastical superior for an honest opinion on its value. What does he find? Simply this—Bishop Browne answers: "The objection (Colenso, Part v., p. 97) that the Tabernacle (at Shiloh) could not be the tabernacle, in the wilderness, because it had a 'door' (1 Sam. ii. 22) is rather singular, if we observe that the words in Samuel, on which the objection is founded— 'The women that assembled at the door of the tabernacle of the congregation'—are literally a quotation from Exod. xxxviii. 8—'The women assembling, which assembled at the door of the tabernacle of congregation.' Of course the word door, fine pethah, is as applicable to a tent door as to a house door, and is constantly used of the door of the Tabernacle in the Pentateuch."

In this observation of the Bishop of Winchester a false issue is deliberately raised; the quotation given by Colenso is not touched, and for it another, wide of the mark, is substituted! In the verse referred to by the Bishop of Natal the words are—"And Samuel lay until the morning, and opened the doors of the house of the Lord," &c.—"doors" being in the original, dalethoth—a different word altogether to pethah, and certainly in the plural number. In other language, we may say that in the Speaker's Bible, almost every argument and criticism of Colenso and his German authorities are left unnoticed and unanswered; and this, almost the only quotation made, is not a true one! Is this honest? So gross, in my opinion, is the want of candour shown in this case, that I, for one, cannot trust a single assertion of the Bishop of Ely, now translated to Winchester, even when he quotes chapter and verse, until I have verified the extract.

But the flagrancy of the proceeding is, if it can be, heightened by a reference to the subject Dr Colenso was endeavouring to show, by those undesigned coincidences, that hierarchs profess to love so much, and which they parade with great earnestness when it suits their purpose, that the tabernacle at Shiloh was not that described in the Pentateuch. It was perfectly open to Dr Browne to adduce evidence that it was the same. This he does not do—the scholar can well understand the reason why, viz., that a close inquiry supports the Bishop of Natal's view. For example, in 1 Sam. L 9, we find that Eli is sitting "upon a seat by a post of the temple of the Lord." This sentence is significant in English, it is much more so in Hebrew. The words "post" and "temple" certainly are quite incompatible with a tent or tabernacle. In the Hebrew, the tabernacle is generally spoken of as ohel, whilst "temple" is heckal. Still further, the expression, "post of the temple," is peculiar, because a corresponding one is found only once in the Old Testament—viz., in Ezek. xli. 21, where the English version has "the posts of the temple," whilst the marginal reading has "post" The word heckal is in constant use throughout the later Jewish books, but does not occur once in the Pentateuch; and it is a significant fact that, in 1 Kings xxi. 1, 2 Kings xx. 18, Ps. xlv. 8, cxliv. 12, Pro. xxx. 28, Is. xiii. 22, xxxix. 7, Dan. i. 4, the word in question is translated in our authorized version palace.

As the idea of a palace—a royal residence, is totally distinct from a tent or tabernacle, it is clear that the narrative about Eli, Hannah, and Samuel, was written by some one to whom the story told in the Pentateuch was quite unknown. The dishonesty—we speak thus, controversially—of the bishops concerned in the new commentary is not only shown in the suggestio falsi, but in the suppressio veri; and no amount of skill in argument or of book-learning can, amongst those who are aware of the fraud, get over the effect which is produced by the cheat. It is evident, that the questions which the Bishops ask themselves are—"Since there are so many who are wholly ignorant of this matter, shall we not do more to uphold current ideas by fraud than by truth?" and, "Is it not right for us to risk our own souls in support of a faith which we do not, but which the people do, believe?"

In a time when all men are ignorant enough not to understand what is history and what pure fable; when they are so careless as not to examine quotations, made from "authorities," in confirmation of opinions, or so credulous as to believe anything which a churchman, and, par-excellence, a Bishop, may affirm, it may be regarded by ecclesiastical writers as a pardonable sin, if not, indeed, a tactical master stroke, to misrepresent an adversary. But in the present day, when all educated Englishmen have heard of the false decretals on which the Popes have founded their claims to superiority, and the astute legend of Prester John, it is bad policy for a Bishop to found an argument upon a wrong quotation, or to imagine that a glaring untruth can by any possibility support his position. For myself, I confess that I began to read the Speaker's Commentary with interest, inasmuch as it purported to be an exposition and refutation of the arguments against the authenticity of certain Biblical writings; but when I found an English hierarch could so forget his duty to "the truth" as to misquote such a man as his episcopal brother, the Bishop of Natal, I abstained from a farther perusal, for I found the necessity of verifying quotations involved more time than I could afford. Dr Colenso has, however, sufficiently shown the viciousness of the new commentary, and there is no necessity for a second investigator.

From what has been said, we have shown that the members of the Church of England, and all Protestant dissenters, have a right to expect from their teachers an opinion, founded upon learned inquiry, "whether the objections made by scholarly critics against the inspiration of the Bible are well founded," and that ministers of all denominations, as a body, not only shirk the duty, but persecute such of their fraternity as venture to do so.

When an individual in the community accepts a trust and does not fulfil it, he is amenable to the law; and if it can be proved that there has been wilful negligence, the trustee may be punished. This does not, however, apply directly to the clergy, for the trust which is confided to them is to preach and teach from the Bible. That, certainly, is what they engage to do before the law, but the very essence of their existence as ministers of religion is, that they shall instruct men in the way of salvation. This trust, which is never put into legal phraseology, is proclaimed to be in existence by every preacher; and each minister, by implication or assertion, declares that he is desirous of exercising this trust to the best of his ability. If, then, the real value of his leadership is challenged, he ought, as a champion, to defend it. He does so in every point, except that which is most essential He will discuss circumcision with a Jew, infant christening with a baptist, purgatory with a popish priest, bishops with a presbyterian, confession with a ritualist, and the like. There must, then, be some cause why Revelation should not be treated of.

If we consult human nature, the only causes to which we can assign this reticence are, conscientious cowardice and dishonesty. The first is, by many persons, regarded as a duty—they are taught that it is sin to doubt; the second is not called by its right name. Yet, as we have said elsewhere, our religious societies are founded upon the principle of sowing doubt broadcast; and we denounce the pious frauds which invented winking virgins and bleeding nuns. Surely, if there be any truth in the line—"An honest man's the noblest work of God," it is most essential that they, who style themselves His ministers, ought to be conspicuously honourable, candid, and thoroughly trustworthy in matters of doctrine as well as of morality.

The subject on which we are now treating has ramifications so wide, that it is difficult to see the end of the branches. Amongst the most obvious is the influence which it has upon the matter of public education—one which occupies a large portion of the interest of our nation at the present time.

In our preceding vol. II., p. 113, we have a note to the effect that there is much doubt upon the subject whether faith ought to be drilled into the minds of our youth prior to an acquisition of, or the power of using, their reasoning faculty, and we remarked that the question is far too extended to be treated in a casual note.

The matter was shortly afterwards discussed in parliament, but not one of the orators ventured to touch upon the point involved. If we ask ourselves "the reason why," it is probable that the answer would run—because all the interlocutors did not venture to be honest; by which I mean, did not wish to utter, in distinct language, the opinions that they held, and the end which they sought. There are some legislators who regard moral cowardice as a virtue, and political dishonesty as a desirable kingcraft.

If an observer of the parliamentary debates, to which we refer, was also a diligent and thoughtful reader of orations made in country towns and metropolitan districts, by preachers and teachers of all our various religious denominations, he would readily come to the conclusion that there was something underlying every speech, which was never allowed to come to the surface—a something which each was perfectly cognizant of, but which it would be unmannerly to name, or even to hint at strongly. It is not, in public meetings, or in parliament, permitted to any speaker to accuse an adversary of falsehood or dishonesty.

Yet, what an orator may not judiciously say of particular individuals, a writer may assert of a class, or of a single person, if he is a representative of a body. I may, for example, accuse the Pope of dishonesty in misrepresenting certain well-known facts. I may equally charge controversial writers with fraud, when they falsify the words or arguments of an opponent. Whoever frames such an indictment is, however, bound to take into consideration the possibility of there being an unintentional error. It may, for example, be true that Popes never see newspapers which tell the truth, and that divines may quote without ever reading the book which they profess to criticise. In both cases the critic acquits them of malice, but only to convict them of culpable ignorance.

When we investigate how this bears upon education, we ask ourselves—"Do we, as historians, or in our capacity of reading men, know that the pretensions of the Church of Rome are founded upon, or are bolstered up by, assertions which every learned man knows, or ought to know, are unworthy of belief?"

To be more particular, let us propound the question—Does any Papal hierarch believe that Francis of Assisi received certain bodily marks on his hands and feet direct from Jesus? or that any portion of the blood of a man has been preserved for ages in the Cathedral of Naples, as having once belonged to a person who is called by the same name as the first month in our year? We might readily increase our queries by remarking about St. Dennis, St. George, St Fou-tin, and a variety of others who appear in the Roman heaven. Our purpose, however, will be answered if we ask, whether the thoughtful amongst us do not object to the Papal faith, because those who proclaim it are not to be trusted?

If we listen to energetic Protestant divines, we hear much of "lying wonders," wrought by Antichrist, which are calculated even to deceive the very elect. These men frequently quote such passages as the following:—"Trust ye not in lying words, saying, The temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord, are these" (Jer. vii. 4); "They have committed villany in Israel, and have spoken lying words in my name, which I have not commanded them" (Jer. xxix. 23); "Have ye not spoken a lying divination," &c. (Ezek. xiii. 7, 8, 9); "Then shall that Wicked be revealed, whose coming is with lying wonders, and with all deceivableness of unrighteousness; and for this cause God shall send them strong delusions, that they should believe a lie," &c. (2 Thess. ii. 8-12). Indeed, the main objection to the Roman Church, amongst all those who are acquainted with its secret history, is that it is founded, and still exists, upon a foundation of fraud.

There are many who consider that the Churches of England and of Scotland have not a better basis; but both have so many friends in Great Britain, that the sins of neither are closely examined, except by their adversaries.

Each sectarian is fully alive to the want of good faith shown by every other division of the Church of Christ; and not only so, but we have seen, in our own times, a ruler in Siam who knows about them too (see Wheel of the Law, by H. Alabaster; Triibner & Co., London, 1871), and is perfectly alive to the fact that we deceive ourselves.

It is a part of human nature that each individual has a propensity to deceive himself or herself. A child, who has been told that Old Bogy lives in a certain cupboard, will not go and look therein; a man who adores a lovely wife will not believe in her frailty; and a fond woman will not credit even her father, when he tells her that her admirer is a worthless scoundrel.

We grant this readily, but we add the proviso, that we only allow ourselves to be deceived by our own friends. It would be, to all of us, a frightful infliction if our sons or daughters were to tell us that we were under strong delusions, and believing in lies. Consequently, everyone desires that his family shall have a similar faith with his own.

At the present time, however, more conspicuously than at any other since printing was invented, there is, in society, a vast number of men who believe, from their critical inquiries, that all religionists trust in lying vanities which do not profit. These individuals have become sceptics, in consequence of education having led them to think for themselves. Being opposed to all, they are friendly with none; and although they are not aggressive, as a rule, they are vigorously attacked by every sect which steadily refuses to come to the light.

Under these circumstances every hierarch argues: "The education which frees the mind from all the shackles of superstition is prejudicial to us, who earn our living hy making fetters, fixing them, and relaxing them when duly paid to do so. A sound teaching—a style of instruction that will induce the rising generation to examine into our pretensions will cut the ground from under our feet. We must, therefore, endeavour to limit, in some considerable degree, our tuition." Like the Jesuits in Austria and of to-day, they will cram the memory, but not exercise the understanding; they will crowd the mind with lying statements, and prohibit all inquiry. Sectarians, therefore, as a rule, object to education, unless it has a religious element in it. They agree in this point, but differ as to the style of faith which is to be taught Hence all the difference of opinion, for as the sectarians cannot decide upon what faith is to be taught, they object to all instruction whatever. Are they honest?

If, instead of nursing a private idea, each legislator were boldly to say what he desired to obtain and to avoid, there might be some chance of united action. But when all pretend to work in common, yet not one is absolutely in earnest, and all, more or less, play at "make believe," no valuable end will be obtained.

One politician, whose memory is tenacious, and his temerity great, cannot bear the idea that the British mind should approximate to that of the Germans; and, whilst he eulogizes education, he denounces Strauss. Not because the latter is not a man of profound learning, but because the cultivation of his intellect has led him to certain conclusions which are distasteful to an English politician. This is not honesty.

Again, our bishops and the priesthood generally say, "Education is a desirable thing; it is wrong for man, who has a soul to be saved, not to seek out the way of salvation." But if, in the course of inquiry, a scholar imagines that their way is incorrect, he is anathematized, and his fellows are instructed to believe that no one can find comfort for the soul except in the way patronized by the Church. This, again, is not honest. But—and the word is of mighty import—if, instead of saying this distinctly, a few individuals of high standing in the Protestant community deliberately, and with the intention to deceive—or to retain people in the bonds which astute predecessors have thrown around the laity, state, as their belief, that which their critical knowledge tells them is untrue, or withhold knowledge of importance, because they deem its publication detrimental to ecclesiastical institutions, they are not simply dishonest—they are culpable, and guilty of spiritual murder.

My meaning may be illustrated by one or two pertinent anecdotes: The captain of a man-of-war was doubtful of the existence of a rock laid down upon a chart. One day at dinner he announced to his company the disbelief which he had, adding, that if the spot were truly described, the ship would strike directly. It did so, and few survivors were left to tell the tale. The commander judiciously elected to perish with his vessel. Had he told his officers, and the distinguished passengers whom he was carrying, what he was doing, it is certain that the danger would have been avoided.

Another ship captain was addressed by a civilian who was on board, and told that a hurricane was approaching, which might be avoided by steering in a certain direction; but, metaphorically speaking, the bishop would not listen to the layman. The typhoon came, the vessel was partially dismasted; then the passenger was consulted, and by his aid the ship got out of the danger.

The civilian was well read, not in ancient books, but in modern science; the master mariner knew only his log-book, compass, and "the rule of thumb."

A person who loses his ship because he is too stupid to believe a chart, or the rules of a science, which every scholar may test, deserves the name of an imbecile, and our Board of Trade would deprive him of the power to do any more mischief as a captain; but bishops and priests may pilot their vessel wrongly, for none have any jurisdiction over them, provided always that they steer in the old channels. It matters not how far the way may be shifted, all is supposed to be right, if the old landmarks are still used.

To make our meaning still more clear, let us imagine ourselves a nation of mariners, and of ocean-travellers. We go to school, and learn astronomy, trigonometry, geography, physics, and the like; yet, when we are at sea in any ship whatever, we must neglect our knowledge, and trust implicitly to the captain of our ship. We know that we are, in reality, going southwards, when our proper destination lies to the north: for us it is easy to read the stars, and thus to test both the chronometer and the compass; must we, then, be quiet because we have embarked in a vessel belonging to a certain "line," which is commanded by a master appointed by the "firm" or "company" to which the barque belongs. What is the value of education unless it enables us, when necessary, to find whether we are in the right way or not?

Let us, still further, suppose that we remonstrate with the captain, and that he, in place of arguing the matter fairly, endeavours to override our objections by quoting from ancient geographers, to demonstrate that what we believe to be the wrong is, in reality, the only true way to go; we may be silenced, probably until we accidently discover in the ship's library, a dissertation proving that the old traveller's charts are worthless. When we find out that, what will be our opinion of the captain? Can we believe him to be honest?

If we now were to remonstrate with our naval dictator, and he were to rejoin—"My worthy brothers, I know that you are right, and that I have been wrong. I have, indeed, known it from the time I began to be commander, but my living depends upon my belief in old charts and ancient compasses. I dare not change my plan, for my masters would dismiss me. They know—at least I feel convinced that they are aware, that the old sailing directions are wrong; but they have not the courage to say so, or to alter them—and if I do so, they will cashier me."

Is the "firm" or "company" honest? and if we are to mete out degrees of culpability, to whom must the severest punishment be awarded? Surely, in the case of the Church of England, to her Bishops, who, knowing, as scholars, that their compass and charts are incorrect, yet oblige those under their command to steer by them—thus compelling the men who ought to be standard-bearers in the forefront of intellectual work, either to be silent, or to fight at a disadvantage.

It is the knowledge of the duplicity of a vast number of intelligent divines, which has induced laymen to take the business of education out of the hands of the clergy as a body. The Protestant believes that a Jesuit will not teach correct history; the Romanist feels certain that, even in biography, evangelical narratives cannot be trusted; and Nonconformists generally feel that they cannot rely upon the instruction given by those of a different sect.

It is desirable to sketch, if possible, what would be the condition of society if, in the place of the clergy, there was a set of men trained to the office of instructor, and that all individuals in the kingdom were compelled to attend school for a definite period in their youth. In the first place, nothing would be taught which is not known to be true. After having mastered the rudiments of knowledge, the art of reading, writing, and ciphering, the students would be taught to train their minds in drawing inferences from facts, and the art of passing from imperfect knowledge to certainty. They would be schooled into habits of exactness, and the necessity for careful inquiry before they believed an assertion to have the same power as a fact Those whose inclination led them to study one or more of the arts or sciences, drawing, painting, sculpture, designing, weaving, chemistry, engineering, building, and a host of others, would learn that in every one of them knowledge and precision are required to ensure success.

When the instructor found that his pupils were sufficiently trained to the exercise of reasoning, he would then proceed to explain the ideas which have been entertained by various people about the existence of beings, other than those which can be recognized by the senses. He would lead his class through the geological history of our planet, and point out the sequence of events from the latest formation, to the primary rocks; on his way he would linger on the nature of ancient plants and animals; from our earth he would lead them to a study of the stars, and then point out how very natural is the opinion that all the universe had a designer.

Then, after giving a history of the belief in ancient times, he would gradually descend to our own. He would critically examine the pretensions of any person who had, in former ages, asserted, or who proclaimed now, that he or she knew all about this presumed Creator, and was charged to communicate that knowledge to mankind. After explaining the critical test by which such an assumed mission might be examined—viz., by accurate knowledge of the earth and of mankind, he would apply this trial to all known pretenders to inspiration.

As a result, his pupils might prefer one to another, or refuse to believe in all which have hitherto appeared. In any case, each individual would enter upon the form of faith which he selected with full knowledge of the facts in favour of it. He would, therefore, be a disciple worth having. If, on the other hand, he disbelieved all pretenders to inspiration, his condition would be the result of deliberate reasoning upon ascertained facts, and not built, as all religion now is, upon parrot lore, taught in childhood, ere thoughtfulness has begun to grow.

Assuming that men were thus trained by honest and able instructors, all those people who live upon the weaknesses and the ignorance of the multitude would cease their endeavours to prey upon mankind, and to get a living by playing upon the fears which so many persons have of the unknown. There would then be no religious wars or contests—no popes, prelates, priests, nor deacons. Quackery of all kinds would cease, and statesmen would all agree in endeavouring to procure for mankind the greatest amount of available happiness. This would be the result of honesty. But from such a picture many men absolutely recoil As the effect of training has been to make them believe that unsubstantial things are of sovereign importance, they cannot endure the idea of man being wholly rational; and they insist, as does the late Premier of England, that, if scientific schooling of the mind leads men to neglect what some call Revelation, the plan must be radically bad and worthless. But to eulogise education and to deprecate its results is dishonest. This political tenet or practice resembles that of many a parson, who tells his hearers from the pulpit that they are to "take no thought for the morrow, for the morrow will take thought for the things of itself;" "they are not to take thought for life, for food, for raiment; nor to lay up for themselves treasures upon earth" (Matt vi. 19, 25, 34), and on the week-day urges them to lay by a store against the time of sickness or old age. Such double-dealing is dishonest, and is unworthy of a thoughtful man. If Jesus was right, why not enforce his teaching? if he was wrong, why not say so?

Is it possible that any minister in politics, or religion, can believe that "Honesty is the best policy," and yet act with double-dealing? Can any person, who has power to think, believe that he will be respected when he, on a Sunday, preaches improvidence as being taught by the Almighty, and on a Monday proclaims that men are wicked who do not make a provision for the future? If such people were honest with themselves, they would soon discover that the doctrine propounded from the pulpit is a Buddhistic one, acted upon by all the early disciples of Sakya Muni, and in a conspicuous manner by himself. Yet, if a parson were to be candid thus far to himself, he would probably say—"I cannot afford to be honest in this matter openly, and I must keep this knowledge to myself." Interest, unfortunately, determines the actions, even of our divines, more than a rigid uprightness.

We are thus at the foundation of those causes which are in operation to make the thoughtful laity distrustful of the clergy—it is, that the latter are not honourable or strictly veracious—they preach one doctrine, and act upon another. Honesty is on their lips, but self-interest in their hearts. From the Pope to the humblest deacon, there is a conscious reticence in every mind—an inner belief that their pretensions are not tenable, yet an outward determination to proclaim them at all hazards; like the silversmiths of Ephesus, they all unite in the belief that "their craft is in danger" when the apostles of reason appear.

Far be it from me to assert that all the clergy are dishonest in the full meaning of the word. I believe that many of them have such undeveloped minds, or such mean intellectual capacities, that they are absolutely unable to think upon any subject which has not been drilled into them when their brains were childish and ductile. Others, again, have been schooled into the belief that "doubt" and "the devil" are identical, and who pray to be defended from both—with them, "to inquire" is a temptation of Satan, and so is to be manfully resisted; others, again, say to themselves, and sometimes even to their friends—"I know what will follow if I go into 'the evidences'—I dare not do it, and prefer to remain in my present condition." Others, again, say to their conscience—I am paid to expound a certain book, in a certain way; I cannot afford to give up my position; consequently I will neither hear of nor argue upon either the volume or the doctrine. There are, again, some few religionists who, by constantly encouraging a blind faith, and repressing all intellectual doubts, come at length to believe their position impregnable, and who trust it because it is, as it were, always kept under a glass-case. Some such I know, or have known, personally; and have heard from their own lips how their very accurate knowledge of the Bible has made them doubt its inspiration, and how "they have wrestled with God in prayer"—to use their own expression—until the temptation to distrust has been changed into a childlike confidence. Men like these are not dishonest to the world, they are only so to themselves.

The career of one of my acquaintances has been so striking, that it deserves a record. The man of whom I speak was one of powerful intellect, and of an inquiring turn of mind; but he was in holy orders, and had schooled himself never to investigate the Bible's claim to inspiration, or anything connected with religion. He faithfully did the ordinary duties of a minister according to his lights; but throughout his ministrations, in the composition and delivery of every sermon, there was a powerful undercurrent of the mind which was constantly saying, without using words—"You know that you are not honest." Prayer did not subdue this mental conflict, and day by day the undercurrent grew stronger. It was, however, resolutely opposed, and an outward orthodoxy rigidly kept up. Of the throes of such a man, when he was quietly alone, few but those who have felt them can have an idea. Under their influence the brain gave way, and insanity was the reward of a resolute determination to be orthodox against personal conviction. Similar cases are not uncommon, when faith opposes reason.

It is very doubtful whether ordinary laymen have an adequate idea of the extent of clerical dishonesty existing amongst us, not only in the seats of learning, but in our towns, cities, and villages. As I have had much correspondence and conversation with many ministers of religion, I have formed the opinion that parsons of all denominations regard themselves much in the same light as trade unionists and non-union men, the two parties look upon each other as hostile. The former, who call themselves the orthodox, keep up a sort of spy system upon those whose opinions they fear, because they are not in the union. Such men, if they had a chance, would not scruple to "ratten" an adversary. They judge of a man by the books which they chance to see in his library, book-cases, or upon his table; and, without the manliness to confront, they have the weakness to backbite those whose mind is more robust than their own.

As a physician, I have been consulted by a Church of England minister, who was suspected by the rest of the ministers in his town of being a non-union man. Of strong mind, he did not preach the usual jargon which the pulpit delights in. Irons upon Prophecy and Inman's Ancient Faiths had been seen in his study, and he spoke approvingly of Colenso. As a consequence, he was watched in the pulpit and in the street. He was followed to the homes of poverty, and sick folk were visited, that the nature of his ministrations might be searched out. He was visited by persons of all classes, who, taking their cue from the New Testament, strove to entangle him in his talk. Being married, and having a family, and no means of subsistence, save his church living, this trade union persecution made him miserable, and seriously injured his health. But he was resolute not to be dishonest, and held on his way. I was, he assured me, the only person whom he knew that could appreciate his condition, and he was most thankful for my sympathy and advice. He left my house already improved in health; and the feeling that he had a friend to whom he might always apply, enabled him to bear his persecution manfully. He still retains his position, notwithstanding all the wiles and "picketings" of the trade unionists.

This spy system, mentioned in the above example, is associated with an attempt to discover and apply backstairs influence—those who have the power of making appointments in the church, the chapel, or the meeting-house, are studied, and their opportunities to remove a non-unionist taken advantage of by clerical "By-ends," who endeavour to shape their judgment according to that of their patrons.

This dishonesty reacts upon itself. Men who preach habitually one set of doctrines to a congregation, tie themselves and their understanding down to the low level of the majority of mediocrities; and as this level has, under such circumstances, a tendency to lower itself, the clergy have been compelled to fall, with their patrons, far down in the intellectual scale, and the intelligence and educational status of ministers of all denominations sinks annually lower. The proprieties of society prevent me from repeating what has come to my ears from the lips or pens of distinguished clerics. It will be enough if I utter my belief that one or more outspoken laymen will do more good to religion, and advance the interests of society more, than all ecclesiastical unionists. In this and the preceding volumes it has been my aim to be thoroughly honest. In some things of small moment, such as Greek accents, Hebrew points, &c., it is probable I have been faulty. I will even allow, willingly, that a more perfect Hebrew scholar than myself may esteem my etymons fanciful and incorrect. My work having been done in the midst of constant interruptions, I concede that, to accomplished bookworms, it must appear disjointed. But, with all its faults, it is honest; and, being so, I claim the right to challenge any one who chooses to enter the lists, and encounter me honourably, to a knightly combat. I am sure that my aim has been, and is yet, to elicit truth. To me vituperation, because I have run foul of what are called established doctrines, has no more influence than it had upon the prime movers of any revolution. A foul blow, such as iniquitous misrepresentation, would probably anger me for a moment, yet it would nerve me, in the course of a few hours, to make an onslaught more furious than ever. With a literary rascal one cannot observe the strict laws of knighthood, except indeed, those which govern the relations of the noble and the varlet.

I make this challenge the more boldly, because the so-called orthodox cannot persecute me by those meannesses which they employ against each other. Having no ecclesiastical status, I have no penalty to dread from frightened bishops or malignant priests. In the face of such a defiance the clerical party must fight fairly, or slink away as cravens. One condition, however, I must make with any one who enters the lists—viz., that any misrepresentation, such as that made about Bishop Colenso by Dr Browne of the See of Winchester, shall be regarded as ipso facto—a signal of defeat.

To return to the idea which is enunciated at the early part of this essay, let us contemplate what would be, or rather, what ought to be, the duty of an honest man, whose aim is to defend the faith which he professes, and to prove that the book which he reveres is deserving of his confidence.

It is probable that, if a merchant had in his possession a bill, or promissory note, which some person had examined carefully, and pronounced to be a forgery, he would never think of parading it before his customers as a valid "asset." Yet, as I write the sentence, memory recalls to my mind that traders have done this very thing, and have counted what they ought to have known were bad debts, or fraudulent bills of exchange, amongst their securities for money; and that, when the parties so acting have become bankrupt, their proceedings have been severely punished by the authorities, as being dishonest and fraudulent.

The analogy is an useful one, inasmuch as it enables me to ask the question—"Ought the morality of a 'divine' to be inferior to that practised by a merchant or banker?" Still further, let us inquire whether we should have a high opinion of a trader, who endeavoured to palm off upon us, as a genuine diamond, an article which had been publicly declared to be a bit of "paste," and whether we should be satisfied with his excuse—"I believe everything is a gem that goes by the name of a precious stone."

In the course of this and our preceding volumes we have, as plainly as words could express our meaning, enunciated our conclusions upon certain Biblical difficulties. We have, at least, endeavoured to be honest; we have not misrepresented those with whose opinions we differ, nor have we tried to shirk any question, however difficult it may have been. We claim a corresponding degree of honesty from those who profess to be authorised guides—and certainly are in the position at present of national leaders in religion.

We are not like an unfortunate clerk in "holy orders," who can be silenced by law. We are, on the contrary, a stranger knight who comes to a tourney, and claims the right to combat with the most redoubtable of the champions of their court and kingdom. Still further, we assume the power to write those down as cowards who, upon any pretence whatever, decline to compete in the lists with us.

In the days of chivalry there was not a knight who would not have been regarded as "craven," if he declined a combat because his challenger did not speak or write French correctly, or had a speck of rust on his armour, a dint in his shield, or a hole in his breastplate. Yet, in these degenerate days, we see that poltroons refuse to entertain the arguments of a writer who, from any cause whatever, appears to be inaccurate in Hebrew points, or consonants, or Greek accents, or transliteration. For ourselves, we regard every excuse which is framed to avoid meeting a fairly stated argument as a proof of weakness, and when it is uttered by a professional champion, as an act of cowardice. When such champions are paid by a state to uphold the honour of their country, to avoid a challenge by evasion is dishonesty. There was, however, in knightly days, some established law of chivalry that no champion need fight a "squire" or "varlet;" but, on the other hand, no nobleman could refuse to enter the lists on the plea that his challenger had a different faith to his own. Combats between Christians and Paynim were common. Consequently, we cannot regard a bishop justified in declining a fair challenge, because he is invited to enter the lists by an "Infidel."

Considering myself as an university graduate and an English gentleman, entitled to give a literary challenge, I make no scruple to enter the lists, and invite champions to break a lance with me in favour of their patron saint or lady.

I assert that their tutelary saints—Adam, Abraham, David, Moses, Solomon, and the prophets, are imaginary beings, or, where real, were not as worthy as they are supposed to have been. I defy scholars to prove that the Israelites were ever, as a body, in Egypt; that they were delivered therefrom by Moses; that the people wandered during forty years in "the desert;" received a code of laws from Jehovah on Sinai; and were, in any sense whatever of the words, "the chosen people of God."

I assert that the whole history of the Old Testament is untrue, with the exception of a few parts which tell of unimportant events—e.g., it is probable that the Jews fought with their neighbours, as the Swiss have done in modern days—but I do not believe the tale about Samson any more than that of William Tell.

I assert that there is not a single true prophecy in the whole Bible, which can be proved to have been written before the event to which it is assumed to point, or which is superior, in any way, to the "oracles" delivered in various ancient lands.

I assert that the whole of what, is called the Mosaic law had no existence in the days of David, Solomon, and the early Hebrew chieftains—or kings—if they are thought to deserve the title.

Here there is no room for evasion—the issue is clear; the cause to be adjudged by combat is unmistakable. As the weapons on both sides must necessarily be literary—the pen, and not lance or spear, it is advisable to say a few words thereupon. In argument I do not recognize that style of logic which considers that the words "it may be" are equal to "it is."

I am induced to make this remark, because in theological works, the two forms are constantly used as if they were identical. Many years ago, a near relative, staying in my house, was preparing for ordination in the Church of England, and amongst other hooks, had a certain work of the late Cardinal Wiseman, for perusal—with the intention of collecting materials for refuting it. He told me that the Papal Archbishop was too strong for him, and requested my aid. As a result, I became familiar, not only with many dogmatic writings of the Roman, but also of the Anglican, Church. All of them had, in my estimation, the same logical fault. Their authors imagined that any given point is proved when it can be shown that the occurrence in question may have happened. At a subsequent period I discovered that this was the prevalent argument amongst writers in my own profession. It has, indeed, been supposed generally, that success in proving an opponent to be wrong, is the same as demonstrating your own propositions to be right.

The writers in the Speaker's Commentary upon the Bible have not advanced beyond this. A thousand such commonplaces as fill its pages, are worthless to the philosophical inquirer, and I no more regard them, than a knight would a targe and lance made of barley-sugar.

My challenge, however, is not confined to the subject of the Old Testament; I affirm that the New Testament is equally untrue—although not to the same degree. Yet, as in the latter, there are not so many asserted facts, there cannot be so many points for cavil. To be more specific: I assert that the history of Jesus was framed upon that of Sakya Muni, and very probably at Alexandria, long after the death of the son of Mary. I do not deny the existence of Jesus; but I assert that every miracle which is told respecting him—and the narrative of his miraculous conception, and of the marvels occurring at his birth, have no foundation in fact.

It is unnecessary to repeat what I have already said upon such points as "original sin," "the fall of man," and "the need of a Saviour."

In what I now say or write, I am perfectly honest. I have not been paid to preach a certain doctrine, whether my understanding assents to it or not I affirm, moreover, that the comfort in which I live, is wholly unbroken by any fears for the future; and that I look back upon the period when my days and nights were made wretched by superstition, and rejoice that I am emancipated from the shackles of Ecclesiastics. "The Church," and every sect of it, which is known in Christendom, is, in my opinion, unfit to be trusted by thoughtful human beings. Its votaries are only happy in proportion to their power of forgetting its doctrines, or explaining them away. Yet all, as I said in the first chapter of my second volume, agree "to make believe," and by dint of persistently doing so, end in persuading themselves that they are clothed with lovely garments—which have no existence, save in the opinion of the wearer.

My whole life has been passed amongst religionists of more or less piety. I have known them in public and in private, in their connection with the world, and their relations with wife, children, and servants. I am also familiar with some who are avowed free-thinkers. As an impartial judge, and certainly having the desire to be an honest one, I declare that the so-called irreligion or infidelity of the latter makes them better citizens of the world, better fathers of a family, and better priests to those who are struggling with misfortune, than the religion—orthodox or non-conformist—of the former induces them to become.

If there were in reality, as there was once in fable, a domain in which every one was constrained to speak the truth; and if, still farther, one could carry thereto every religionist, and inquire into his belief, I feel sure that those whom the professed Christians affect to despise as infidels, would be the only ones who would be found faithful in private, to the principles which they profess in public. If, for an example, the question were put to both "What is honesty?" the answer of the free-thinkers would be—"Doing to others, in every position of life, that which you would wish others to do to you;" the reply of the dogmatic would be the same, with the important addition—"Except in matters of faith."

My readers must not imagine that I am hasty or unscrupulous in what is passing from my mind to my pen. There never was a time in which I have felt more deeply that my duty, as an independent man, is to speak plainly. On the other hand, there is not one single religionist of my acquaintance, to whom the words—"Ye know not what manner of spirit ye are of" (Luke ix. 55)—do not apply.

On the shelves of my library are books written by almost all classes of authors, and in many different languages. It has been a self-enforced duty to compare their contents, and to endeavour, still further, to elicit from those who are not writers, information which may assist me in forming a correct idea upon any particular point. Up to the present time I have not found one single work, which has relation to the religion of opponents, and is written by a parson, thoroughly trustworthy or honest Everyone is guilty, either of the suppressio veri or suggestio falsi—generally of both. A book emanating from a priest is bad, that from a bishop is worse. Colenso, whom I regard as the only thoroughly truthful member of the episcopal hierarchy, is the one who is more foully treated by religionists than any other minister has ever been—"Tis true, 'tis pity, and pity 'tis, 'tis true."

We may be pardoned, if we close this chapter by the expression of our views as to the religion which will prevail when men have thought as much upon their future life as upon their present, and are honest with themselves:

1. They will try to form some distinct idea of what would be to them a heaven; but, as they will be wholly unsuccessful, they will cease to speculate upon it.

2. They will cease to fear a hell, knowing that, if there be any immortal part of man, it must be immaterial; they will not believe that it can be tormented by material fires, forks, and furies.

3. They will cease to pay any attention to men who call themselves prophets, divine messengers, or vicars of God on earth, whether they use lying wonders or not.

4. Instead of constantly cogitating how much they can sin against, and yet get pardon from, some unknown deity, they will recognize the laws of nature for their guide, and live in communities as their reason dictates. The future will be left wholly in the power of the Creator.

5. There will be no belief in a trinity, in a virgin mother of God, in intercessors of any kind whatever between human beings and the invisible God; each man and woman will be independent and alone in the presence of the Supreme.

6. Man will no longer try to usurp the place of God, and persecute his fellow mortal on religious grounds.

7. There will be no priests or ministers of religion; but there will be instructors in science, in the laws of life, and moral order; there will be magistrates to enforce social propriety, and establishments where the insane and the criminal can be secluded.

8. There will be no strife about religion, for each will attend to his own personal concerns.

9. The laws of nature will be studied as regards marriage and family; the infected will not be allowed to perpetuate a feeble race, nor the diseased infant be pampered, that it may live to a sickly and useless maturity.*

         * We may add, that there will then be neither silly women
         nor crotchety men, who will encourage free trade in
         fornication, and the diffusion of loathsome diseases, and
         endeavour to promote unnecessary suffering by their
         opposition to the methods of avoidance.

10. No law will be made but that which is drawn from a study of the ways of the Creator, and the proper requirements of His creatures.

11. Every pretender to revelation, or inspiration, will be incarcerated as a rogue or a lunatic.

12. The aim of all will be individual and general comfort, and as much happiness as is compatible with humanity.

When each does to others as he would be done by, the millennium, so much talked of, will have come.

## APPENDIX.

### 27th March, 1875.

Dear Dr Inman,

At pp. 11 and 81 of your new volume, the proof-sheets of which you were good enough to show me, you intimate that an earlier origin can be found for all Hebrew feasts and observances excepting the Sabbath. It would appear, from discoveries made and works published since you began to write, that you need not make even this exception. There are, I think, plain indications of a Sabbath among the Egyptians, and proofs of its observance by the Assyrians.

Dr G. G. Zerffi, in a note appended to Mr Tyssen's Origin of the Week* says—"Judging from the Egyptian mythology, we are justified in assuming that they had some correct notions of the division of time. Their eight gods of the first order point to an incarnation of the cosmical forces, or the planetary system. The twelve gods of the second order undoubtedly presided over the twelve months of the year; whilst the seven gods of the third order were to watch over the seven days of the week..... The Teutons have inherited the division, not only of the week in seven days, but also the names by which these days are called, from the Indians....." (Bohlen's Das alte Indien; Toth, by Dr Uhlemann; and Bunsen's Egypt's Place in History; Tacitus, Suidas, Pliny, and Amosis).

         * The Origin of the Week Explained, by A. D. Tyasen, B.C.L.,
         M.A.; Williams & Noigate, 1875.

These, perhaps, are only what I have called them, indications of a Sabbath, since it is conceivable that a week of seven days might exist without one day being more sacred than another. A plainer indication may be found in the Hymn to Amen-Ka, which exists upon a hieratic papyrus, judged to be of the fourteenth century, B.C., and purporting to be only a copy of an earlier writing. I quote four lines, and call attention to the fourth:—

         O! Ra adored in Aptu [Thebes]:
         High-crowned in the house of the obelisk [Heliopolis]:
         King (Ani) Lord of the New-moon festival:
         To whom the sixth and seventh days are sacred.*

When we leave Egypt for Assyria, we pass from indication to proof. At p. 12 of George Smith's Assyrian Discoveries,** the author says—"In the year 1869 I discovered, among other things, a curious religious calendar of the Assyrians, in which every month is divided into four weeks, and the seventh days, or 'Sabbaths' are marked out as days on which no work should be undertaken." More precise information as to these Sabbath-days is given by Rev. A. H Sayce, M.A., in Records of the Past, vol. I., p. 164, where the following words occur:—"The Babylonian year was divided into twelve months of thirty days each, with an intercalary month every six years.... According to the lunar division, the seventh, fourteenth, nineteenth, twenty-first, and twenty-eighth days were days of 'rest' on which certain works were forbidden."

         * Translated by C. W. Goodwin, M.A., in Records of the Past,
         vol. II Bagster & Sons.

         ** Sampson Low, & Co., 1875.

The Assyrian legends tell of seven evil spirits who rebelled against the gods; of the goddess Ishtar descending to Hades, and passing through seven gates; of a deluge, the duration of which was seven days, &c., &c. Mr H. F. Talbot, F.R.S., speaks of the great degree of holiness which the Assyrians attributed to the number seven, and where that number was sacred, the seventh day could scarcely escape special honours. Why the number seven was sacred, or whether the Babylonian Sabbath was at first any more than an unlucky day, like the sailor's Friday, when it was sowing for the whirlwind to begin any enterprise, are other questions.

I am, yours faithfully,

GEORGE ST. CLAIR.

These observations of Mr St Clair deserve attention, for they show that, from an ancient period, a sixth and seventh day were holy in Egypt, although we cannot discover from the context whether they were reckoned after the first day of a year, a month, or a week. But this is of small importance, as I do not find evidence that the Jews borrowed any Egyptian ideas, even if they ever knew any. It is far more important to know, that in the Assyrian calendar the seventh, fourteenth, nineteenth, twenty-first, and twenty-eighth days of the month were days of "rest," for all Biblical testimony points to the adoption of the Jewish Sabbath in the time of the second Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel—i.e., not very long after the Assyrians made their power felt in Palestine. When we consider the propensity which the Hebrews had to copy parts of the religion of those who conquered them, it is highly probable that some astute priest of the Jews adopted the idea of consecrating a seventh day, as their Mesopotamian adversaries had done, to the most high god Saturn; and as it was desirable to have some pretence for the introduction of the Sabbath, it was natural that it should be put under the same head as the new moon, and that stories should be invented, and gradually circulated, of the vast antiquity of the new institution. It is clear, from the Jewish history, that the Sabbath was not generally known amongst the common people until long after the return from Babylon. Had it been so, Ezra would not have thundered so energetically in its favour. The same remark applies to Nehemiah. I have elsewhere remarked that the Sabbath was unknown to David and Solomon, and may now add that any one who will read the episode in the history of Elijah, recorded 1 Kings xix. 7, 8, will see that this prophet could have known nothing, and the angel who spoke to him could have known no more, of the Mosaic Sabbath, inasmuch as the latter directs, and the former obeys, an order which must have involved a breaking of the "rest" of at least five, and possibly six, Sabbaths. The whole life, indeed, of Elijah shows a perfect ignorance of this so-called Mosaic institution.

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